Blood Games
by c.robb07
Summary: AU. After his first year of college Peeta is forced to return home for his mother's funeral. Now he must face his fractured group of friends, a pushy ex and the terrible night that changed all of their lives. When the summer takes a bloody turn motives will be questioned and lives lost. Can love and redemption be found? COMPLETE
1. The Funeral

**Hello and welcome to my newest story. Thank you for checking it out! For those of you that know me from my other fan fiction, Moments of Change, I am happy to tell you I have also started a sequel called Burning Down. If you have not read my previous story I encourage you to check that out as well, it is fully completed!**

**Summary: Peeta is forced to return home for summer after his first year away at college when his mother passes away unexpectedly. Now back in a town he never wanted to set foot in again he must deal with his fractured group of old friends and begin the process of dealing with the consequences of an event one ill-fated night back in high school. When the summer takes a bloody turn motives will be questioned, trust will be tested and not everyone will make it out alive.**

**Warnings: M/M Slash, Mature Language, Violence, Death, Drug Usage, Underage Drinking, and Mature Sexual Themes.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did the Hunger Games would have been a lot gayer than Cinna's gold eyeliner. Some character's ages have been reworked to fit the story.**

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Blood Games

The Funeral

Something was amiss as the raven-haired young woman parked her car in the gravel driveway and it was not the sharp contrast of a shiny red convertible Fiat 500 pulling up to a secluded one-bedroom house in disrepair. It's cream-colored paint peeled up from the wood paneling on the sides, the windows were covered in a layer of grime and there was mold blossoming at the corners where the sunken roof met the walls. But the young woman didn't notice anything with a sheaf of paper distracting her as she exited the car. She read over a few lines and pushed a stray lock back behind her ear. Her black hair was trimmed to her jaw line with jagged cut layers through the sides and back, while her bangs were smoothed down and complemented her round face.

The sun was fading and night approached rapidly as she traversed the gravel to her front door and stopped, clutching the papers in her right arm to her chest. Her topaz eyes had spotted the slightly ajar door and her heart began to flutter in trepidation. She quickly scanned the area around her for another car or sign someone was here. She had no nearby neighbors. The crickets began to chirp in a growing chorus with the darkening sky as she dug into her last season Prada bag for her iPhone. With 9-1-1 set and ready to be called with the tap of a finger she approached her porch.

Her breaths came shallow and quick as her nerves increased with the slow approach to the opened door. The summer was unseasonably hot for this time of year and perspiration beaded at her brow and stained her armpits from the short time she'd been outside. All of which was probably enhanced by her anxiety.

The front door creaked open slowly with the light push of her fingers. She stood outside the threshold of her own home staring in with wide eyes. She had expected a scene of destruction, maybe missing furniture and electronics. Or worse, for the intruder to still be at her rather humble abode. But instead she found the layout of her small home unchanged. The living room was untouched from how she left it that morning with her towel still slung over the love seat and her fabulous collection of shoes still strewn about the room leading into her open bedroom. She peaked her head in just past the threshold to check the coast was actually clear and then took a deep breath and stepped in.

When nothing happened she released the pent up air with a nervous laugh. She rationalized that in her rush to leave this morning she must not have closed the door fully. She berated herself internally for being so stupid. She thought how lucky she was for not being robbed; leaving the door open was like a personal invitation to would-be thieves. She may not have lived in a house many would consider breaking into anymore, but she still had her share of expensive possessions. Like the purse, one of many designer bags gifted to her from her flashy nouveau riche parents, which she placed upon the counter in her kitchen as she went to the fridge.

She froze in place holding the refrigerator door open, wafting chilled air over her exposed calves, as she stared at the postcard taped to the freezer door. The four-by-six card held the photograph of some generic golden wheat field that could have been taken from any of the flyover states. She reached for the postcard with a shaky hand and pulled it free so she could read it. The refrigerator door, freed from her grasp, lazily shut itself as she turned the card over to find a small note scribbled across the back. Her mouth went dry and fear trilled through her body, originating from the card.

Suddenly she was back in that cold and harshly lit hospital room. The nurse had finally left and allowed the police sheriff, Mr. Abernathy, to enter. He had been drinking a fresh cup of coffee to not only wake him, but to probably try and shake off his hangover. Everyone knew he was a raging alcoholic and he barely kept it together enough to work the police force in their town. If they weren't such a small community with a police force of five and little to no crime she was sure he would have been fired by now. She had been extremely grateful at the moment he was still on the force, because a still slightly inebriated Haymitch only helped her in this situation. A situation that still racked her body with shivers as she looked over at her blood splattered white dress in a zip lock bag marked evidence. The deep red stains that had tie-dyed her new dress taunted her ready to reveal her transgressions.

"Are you going to arrest me?" She had asked.

Haymitch had looked up, surprised she was the first to talk.

"No I don't think so, Clove. We have called and notified your parents of the situation. They are driving back from the real estate convention as we speak."

"S-so what happens next?" She wrung the hospital gown in her hands nervously, which Haymitch noted.

"I would like to ask you some questions about tonight…"

The postcard trembled in Clove's hand and fell to the counter as the memory of that night faded. Her eyes tore around the room with renewed fear. Someone had been in her home and placed this postcard on her refrigerator door. She gasped and then ran to her bedroom and came back from it minutes later with a packed Louis Vuitton suitcase. She fetched her car keys from the depths of her purse and tore out the door like the place was burning down, only to run right back in and fetch the postcard, which she read one more time on her way out realizing it was not written in red ink, but blood: _The deceitful seeds you have sown will soon be reaped. Wrongs will be righted._

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The beat of the bass pumped through my veins as a Calvin Harris remix of Florence + the Machine's Spectrum worked up the drunken revelers like it was their crack. I loved the feeling I got as the song built up to its crescendo and everyone joined in to bounce and jump wildly. It all added to the intoxication I was feeling from my fifth vodka tonic and it really was a testament to how much I, Peeta Mellark, had changed in the last year. Yeah, sure I had always been involved with the trouble making popular crowd, but I was always the best of the group. Good grades in spite of our party habits and I was usually the last hold out to try something dangerous or stupid. But now I was on my own, about to be a sophomore in college with my own fake I.D., a joint in my pocket and the balls to go out by myself.

The buzz from the liquor was like an old friend, he enveloped me with his comforting arms and told me it was going to be ok; he wouldn't let me down like the others. He helped me forget my past for the night and opened me up to a good time. Okay the next morning was usually shitty, but I needed it. I had made plans for the summer to study abroad in Europe, but that all went to hell. Like everything seemed to do anymore. And so here I was stuck for the summer in my hometown I swore not to return to, dancing in Panem Beach's premier nightclub, District 1. It was a big tourist spot due to its location on the famous Capitol Boardwalk and that helped explain why it carried such a large crowd when most bars in downtown Panem Beach usually had half as many patrons (and half as many visitors).

I downed the rest of my drink glad the flirting with the hot bartender had paid off. I cringed at the burning sensation in my throat as he had made it with mostly vodka and a splash of tonic. My cheeks were flushed from all the alcohol and dancing. When a strobe light started to go off and a smoke machine blasted the crowded dance floor I took that as my cue to exit. I was over it, but when I checked my iPhone and saw it was only 1:08 am I knew I wasn't ready to head home. Not yet. I wasn't ready for tomorrow to start. I was still unready or unwilling or who gives a fuck the reason, I just didn't want to go to the funeral tomorrow.

I was also getting horny. It had been a few weeks since I'd last had a good fuck and now that I was back in this small beach town the chances were slim to none that I'd find a hook up for the summer. I knew of at least one guy I could call and for a second in my intoxicated state I thought it was a good idea as I studied the decorative crystals that hung from the ceiling. But that was just my dick thinking and my brain knew better. So instead I opened the Grindr app on my phone to see if there were any nearby 'mo's. I hoped that if the bartender really were gay then he'd be on the app too.

Whenever I went on Grindr in Phoenix the screen would be littered with hot, usually bare-chested college aged guys with in a few thousand feet of my location ready and willing. But here the app showed a lot of gross older guys all miles from my location and many were closeted using some stupid picture of a landscape, a black screen, or a headless torso. The nearest good-looking guy happened to be 80ft from my spot and his bronzed hair and sea green eyes were immediately recognizable. I felt a twitching in my groin and a self-satisfied smirk on my face. I was glad to have read him so well although the extra vodka should have told me what I suspected, but one never knows. Some straight guys got offended about that shit.

I clicked on his profile and the screen on my phone was filled with a picture of Finnick. The name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it. It was as I had suspected he had a smoking hot body. He was shirtless at the beach in his Grindr picture wearing skimpy blue swim trunks that showed much of his toned and tanned legs. I tapped the chat button and sent off a quick _hey sexy_ and waited. He came online and replied: _Hey urself. _

I asked if he was looking. I smiled at his response: _Yeah, ur close, u the guy who ordered the vodka tonic?_

_Yep, the one who flirted shamelessly with you ;)_

He didn't get off work until 2:30, which was a real shame. So I sent him one of my standard dirty pics and said _be naughty with me,_ hoping that would entice him. He must have wanted it as bad as me because he replied with lightning speed:_ I could take a bathroom break…_

I looked up to see him staring at me from the bar across the dance floor. I smirked at him and then headed to the bathroom with out reply. The bathroom itself was much nicer than most of the college bars I frequented in Phoenix. This was a more upscale club and they managed to maintain their facilities nicely. They had gilded gem shaped mirrors and glittering black marble sinks. I noticed the stalls had floor to ceiling walls and I grinned, perfect.

I walked down to the last stall and opened it to find it was empty, like the rest of the bathroom. Most men, when they came in, headed straight for the row of urinals on the opposing side of the bathroom for quick relief. The door opened and in walked the unbearably hot bartender. My dick instantly stood to attention when our eyes met, my dark with lust baby blues held his enrapturing sea green eyes.

He walked towards me with purpose, a man confident in his sexual prowess, and shoved me into the stall closing the door behind him with a flick of the lock. I was turned on by his forcefulness as he pushed me up against the wall and gave me a lustful look in the eyes that made my knees weak and my dick leak.

"I've maybe got five minutes. This will have to be quick," He husked out.

"Then what are you waiting for," I challenged.

He smirked and then dove in for a deep kiss. His tongue was forceful and probing and he shoved up against me as he pressed his right leg between mine. I involuntarily rutted against the sweet pressure of his thigh against my dick. His tongue worked to taste every inch of my mouth as my hands roamed his muscular back and gripped the hem of his black v-neck. He broke the contact of the searing kiss with a smack of our lips so I could rip his shirt off over his head.

He leaned back in for a kiss, but I dodged it. I couldn't allow for my eyes to be torn from the prize before them. His body was ridiculous and I swiped my hands over his perfectly chiseled 6-pack abs and large pectorals with brown nipples that just begged to be sucked. He growled at my dodge of his lips, but then groaned in satisfaction when I dove in to suck on one of his nipples, chewing lightly on the soft skin that grew taut from my attention.

I continued to worship his body until Finnick stole back the control. His sea green eyes had turned stormy with lust and he forced me to turn around. I planted both hands against the wall while he rolled my shirt up my back and then kissed his way down my spine with fervor. He reached my pants and my legs shook in anticipation. He reached around to undo the buttons on my skinny black jeans and then pushed them down, his hand grazing over my rock hard dick and an involuntary moan escaped my lips, but that was not his target.

Marina and the Diamonds song Sex Yeah came on over the speakers in the bathroom and further riled me up as the electo-dance beat repeated_ sex, sex, sex, sex, yeah, sex, sex_ over and over.

"Fuck you've got a hot ass," Finnick said.

Before I could get out a response he made me sigh in pleasure when his hands groped each of my ass checks, massaging and kneading them as he spread me open and dove in to eat me out. His tongue worked expertly in the crevice of my ass, teasing my hole until it relaxed for him and then his tongue darted in and out working me open and into a writhing mess of breathless moans. I spread my hands up the surface of the wall and arched my back for Finnick. He moaned in appreciation over my ass and his vibrations thrilled me as his warm tongue wormed its way further inside of me. I pushed back against him, wanting, needing to be penetrated deeper.

"Oh fuck, eat that ass."

Finnick pulled away to bite my ass hard enough to leave a mark and then he stood up and I heard the clink of his metal belt clasp being undone. My hole twitched hungrily in anticipation. I felt slutty and depraved and enjoyed all of it.

_Tired image of a star, acting naughtier than we really are._ I wondered briefly when I had become such a needy little whore. But then the chorus struck back up, _sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, yeah, sex, sex, sex, _and Finnick had the condom on and was positioning his lubed dick at my entrance. He put one hand on my shoulder and I braced myself against the wall as he thrust in hard and fast until he was balls deep. We both released a loud groan at the same time, him from the tight gripping heat of my ass and I from the rough and fast entry from his thick dick satisfying my need to be filled.

_All my life I felt it deep inside of me… If history could set you free from who you were supposed to be… _I threw my head back and Finnick latched on to my neck as he pumped his cock in and out at a hard and furious pace. If anyone walked in the bathroom at this moment they would hear the dirty sounds of sex, _sex, sex, sex_ as he thrust powerfully into my tight ass with the loud slaps of sweaty skin colliding and deep-throated grunts. I started to let out a loud scream of pleasure as he changed the angle by squatting slightly and his thick cock began ramming up into my prostate with each fierce upward push, but he quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. He forced me to be quiet as the bathroom door opened and the sound of two men could be heard entering and talking drunken smack about the girls they were trying to lay while they took a piss.

Even though the men were at the urinals just across the way from our stalls Finnick never stopped working his dick inside me. His hand held my mouth closed and I loved the control he exerted over me as he used my ass during his extended 'bathroom break.' By the time the men left the song had changed to some wordless dub-step song and Finnick took the opportunity to tear into my ass with renewed vigor. He positioned both hands on my hips, gripped them tightly, and pounded into me with jolting thrusts as my ass bounced back against him. My eyes rolled back into my head with pleasure. It was all too much, the alcohol in my veins, the exhilarating feeling of fucking in public with the possibility of being caught at any moment, and the fact that he had snuck away from work to fuck me. I only seemed to come alive anymore and feel good about myself when a hot guy wanted me.

With one hand still bracing myself against the stall I snuck the other one down to stroke my aching cock. I had already leaked profuse amounts of pre-cum so my hand flew over the slickened surface of my weeping dick quickly and with purpose. Finnick must have been close as he plunged deeper and harder with erratic thrusts. I tried to push back in time with his thrusts while working my own dick. I bit my bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure as heat pooled in my stomach and my extremities began to tremble with the oncoming orgasm. Finnick thrust particularly deep and pounded against my prostate gratifyingly. I crushed my eyes shut as a guttural sound ripped from my throat, my balls tightened, the heat and tingling sensations overwhelmed my nerves and my seed spilled out over my hand and spat against the bathroom wall. My ass clenched down on Finnick with each spurt of my climaxing cock and he thrust in with force one last time before lurching forward, his muscled chest mashing up against my back as he bit down on my right earlobe.

"Fuckkk…" He groaned loudly as he rode out his own orgasm in my ass.

He remained panting against my ear with his head resting on my shoulder for a few seconds longer. Then he pulled his softening dick from within me and discarded of the used condom in the toilet as I pulled down my shirt and pulled up my pants. I was ready to leave now. I had got what I wanted and really, this was the part I hated the most, after hooking up with someone when we tried to have some awkward stilted conversation and then I found some weak excuse to leave. They knew and I knew that I'm usually lying and just trying to get away. Luckily we were in a public restroom and he had to get back to work so I hoped I could escape with out hurting feelings.

"We should do that again sometime. Let me give you my number," Finnick said.

I handed him my phone and let him input his number with a shrug. Why not, it could get me out of this situation unscathed and it would be good to have a number to call other than my ex's (which I cannot and will not call) if I ever got the urge again and knowing myself I definitely would. Besides he was built and a proven good fuck.

He handed the phone back to me and I looked into his eyes, they had returned to their normal, yet extraordinary, sea green color.

"Awesome. Um, thanks for the fuck."

"Thank you. I should get back to work. Text me sometime." He smirked and then exited the stall first.

I waited a few minutes and then headed out the stall. I saw my cum splattered against the stall's wall and beginning to dry as I exited. I could wipe it off, but I enjoyed the idea of leaving my mark here. Soiling the breeder bar with my gay seed. So I left it and headed out of the club. It was now around 1:30am and with no more excuses to keep me from returning home I set out on the path home.

Panem Beach was a small beach town about three hours north of Los Angeles along the rugged California coast. It was quite a beautiful town and I had enjoyed most of my years here. From the cliffs on the north side of the beach where some of my friends large houses had been located to the mountain ranges in the east that we had often hiked and the bonfire parties we often threw on the beach.

The south side of Panem beach was where most tourists congregated as it contained the famous Capitol Boardwalk. Panem Beach was discovered in the mid-sixties by wealthy vacationers from LA and San Francisco. Soon they began to populate it and bought and built lavish vacation homes here until recently it was dubbed the new 'Malibu.' Downtown Panem Beach, which was located a few miles inland, was home to the original and usually poorer citizens of Panem while the Capitol Boardwalk catered to the wealthy transplants that lived along the northern stretch of the beach, myself included. It had a large pier that stretched out into the Pacific Ocean from the center of the boardwalk, which hosted many fancy restaurants and the ever-popular District 1 nightclub along with a small theme park filled with rides and game booths at the tip. Then high-end shops in white modern open buildings with expansive windows for viewing the pristine beach littered the northern and southern flanks of the boardwalk.

So upon leaving the club, I made my way down the lively pier. Most restaurant bars were still open, but it was getting around that time where people started wondering out of the bars and heading home with their one night stands or in disappointment. I walked in silence, swaying a little from the alcohol and listening to the rowdy crowds and crashing surf. It was an interesting mixture of serene nature and obnoxious humanity. But I'm not one to judge, especially when I pass a young girl throwing up over the pier as her girlfriends hold her hair back. I've been there too, probably will be again.

When I reached the boardwalk I turned left and headed north towards my house. We were only a few blocks from the beach, which meant I could just continue on down the beach once I reached the end of the boardwalk. The lights from the Capitol faded behind me and I enjoyed the feel of the cool ocean breeze against my overheated skin. It was unusual for May to be this hot; usually our hottest months were August and September and it never really reached the 90's. But it had already reached 92 degrees once this week. Arizona, where I went to school at ASU, was in the middle of a drought along with New Mexico, Texas and much of the Southeast. It must be all that climate change.

I had thought I wanted to major an environmental studies when I started college so I took some pre-requisites for it like Chemistry and Environmental Science. But that summer everything went to shit and by the time I had gotten to college everything changed. I just wanted to forget and so I partied, hard. Next thing I knew I was dropping out of Chemistry and barely scraping by with a C- in Enviro Science. Gale, my roommate, had tried to help me get back on track in my spring semester and really if it weren't for him I don't know how I would have made it. I probably would have failed and dropped more classes and then who knows where my standing would have been with the school.

Gale was the only thing that was good about my life anymore. After everything else went to shit and I lost my mind in alcohol and nameless hookups he still befriended me and even helped pick me back up in the morning. I don't know why he put up with my antics or what he saw in me. He promised me I would get through this; it was just a rough patch. Sometimes I could be the old carefree and light hearted me, not the slutty pessimist, and maybe that's what he saw. When it was just he and I in our dorm room, perhaps studying together or pretending to, everything felt normal and I could stop running for a moment. But that felt like only a small part of me anymore.

And things always had to get weird. Feelings got in the way. My ex had one too many uninvited visits and now my mother was dead and I was forced home to attend her funeral. Gale had kindly offered to come with me knowing how much I hated the thought of returning here. I was very tempted to take him up on that offer, but I really didn't want him to see this place because then maybe he would piece it together, what happened. Why I was the way I am. So I refused him, canceled my flight to Florence and made the full day road trip home.

Now here I was, walking in the sand of Panem Beach on my own in the middle of the night. I pulled from my pocked the small joint I had rolled before going out and lit it with some generic blue lighter I had bought at a gas station. I took a few small puffs to get the tip burning and then inhaled deeply. I blew the smoke from my lungs and watched it swirl about in the air before me. It was mesmerizing. I bent to undo my shoes and held them in my hand, letting my feet spread out in the cool sand. The granules seeped between my toes and tickled the arches of my feet. I took another drag from the joint and felt the marijuana start to affect me. It washed over my body and enveloped my brain in a soft warm blanket. I always felt more attuned to and appreciative of nature when I was high. Tonight was no exception. I stared up at the stars and wiggled my toes buried in the sand playfully.

While I was surrendered in the moment to my senses I noticed the hairs on the back of my neck tingling. It was an odd feeling, like someone was watching me. I turned around and found I was still alone. The lights from the Capitol in the distance behind me helped me see it was a clear path from me to the beginning of the boardwalk. No one was around as far as I could tell.

I decided I did not like being so alone and exposed out there. The smooth crash of the waves and the little light from the moon seemed less serene and inviting and more menacing. Maybe the weed had made me a little paranoid, but I wasn't about to stay out here and let my mind run wild with ideas. Beaches in California were usually quite wide and so I headed in a jog away from the ocean and towards the nearest rode that would lead back to my home. I scanned over my shoulders trying in vain to identify what had triggered my internal alarms, but it was still a desolate stretch of sand and ocean behind me. Once on the paved road and walking under the streetlights I felt better. The road start started to wind as it worked its way up towards the cliffy north beach and I put my shoes back on. I probably only had a five minute walk left to the house when someone called my name.

I looked behind me and there was no one.

"Peeta?"

I realized it was coming from the porch of a small house I was passing on the road. I squinted through the dark to see a figure move away from the front door towards me, I positioned the still lit joint behind my back. When she came into the light of the street I recognized her.

"Hey Katniss."

"Oh good, it is you. I was worried for a second it wasn't and you'd think I was a crazy person," She said.

"No more than you already are."

"Hey! I'm off the Adderol. It's calmed me a lot actually." She smiled and I laughed finding most things funny when high.

I remembered how in high school she had conned her mom, a nurse at the local hospital, into taking her to a doctor for ADHD medication. She claimed she couldn't focus on school, but really she took it recreationally at parties and sold them on campus to kids in the AP program desperate for a little extra focus. I even bought them from her a few time to pull an all-nighter and my friends and I took them after partying on school nights to get through the next day.

"So ya died your hair?"

I brought a hand to touch my hair involuntarily. Her hair was still the same as ever. Long and brown in her signature braid down the back.

"Yeah, I wanted a change."

I shrugged and held my joint to her. She wordlessly accepted it and took a few puffs. I had felt like I needed a change when I got to Phoenix and so I started dying my hair a dark brown and styling it up in a vintage quiff while expanding my wardrobe from laid back beach style to a more sophisticated hipster. It all made me feel removed from my old, less stylish self. I no longer was just a participant, but an instigator.

"Are ya back for the summer? Will I be seeing the old gang reunited?" She asked.

I stiffened at the mention of my old gang. She had her own group of friends, but our circles mixed frequently at parties and school. I tried to evade as best as possible.

"Uh, I'm not sure if everyone's even back here for the summer."

"Oh you haven't talked to them much since the…" She pushed.

"Uh yeah since then and we mostly just drifted apart away at college." I tried to make it seem more like the latter than the former. I didn't like her even alluding to it. I took one last hit from the joint, smoking it in until I couldn't hold it with out burning myself and I ground it out beneath my shoe.

"Oh well I know for a fact Marvel and Cato are back in town. I think Cato even dropped out of UCLA, but I'm not sure what's up with Marvel," She supplied.

I was surprised to hear that. I figured he would have moved on, been some all star lacrosse player and soaking up the city life while Marvel made it big in Hollywood.

"Huh."

"Well it could be a fun summer now that you're back in town. I work at the Capitol Coaster on the pier. Come by sometime, I'll give ya a free ride. I'm actually just getting off work. We have new late summer hours." She smiled brightly at me.

"Oh nice. Well I'll let you go then. New place?" I point to the small house behind her. It looked like it might be cute in the daylight with an old cozy Spanish style.

"Yeah, Estee and I rent it. We figured we would take a year between high school and college. Work, save some money. Travel. Haven't really done the travel part yet… but it was nice talking with ya Peeta!"

"Have a goodnight, Kat. Tell Estee I say hey." I waved and then weaved my way up the road, enjoying the lightness I felt from the drug.

By the time I was home and in bed it was around 2:30 in the morning and I shoved my head under my pillows, knowing all to soon I would have to begin my day. The weed pushed me into sleep with in minutes.

Sunday morning came violently.

"OOF! What the fuck?" I shouted as I sat up confused and holding my sore right arm, which had just been punched.

"Time to get up pansy!" My lovely brother Ryen shouted as he grinned at his work.

"Get the fuck out of my room!" I shouted pissed he had woken me so rudely. He loved to take any chance he could get to beat up on me.

"Dad says to join us for breakfast in 20."

I sneered and flipped him the bird as I sat up. I couldn't believe he still punched my arm to wake me up. He had gotten into the habit of waking me with a punch when I came out in 8th grade. It surprisingly affected my social life little, but he still blamed me for some friendship he lost over my gayness. He was very hostile about the whole thing. I figured after him being away at college now for three years and me just finishing my freshman year away things would have changed. But alas he still threw his punches and homophobic slurs with glee.

I made my way to the shower groggily. It was too early to be up and especially too early to be dealing with my family and my mother's funeral. I showered and massaged the lethargy from my body. When I returned to my room I found my suit jacket and pants from prom laid out on the bed before me with a new black shirt and dark blue tie. The sight of it sent a sharp pang in my chest. I briefly envisioned dancing at prom in it with my first and only boyfriend. My first love…

There was no way I was fucking wearing that to my mom's funeral. I rummaged through my closet and found a pair of tight pinstripe black suit pants. I put on a sapphire military style collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbow and a black vest. I enjoyed my look, slightly defiant with the bright blue. I wasn't going to wear all black and pretend I was mourning greatly. Sure it was weird to think she wasn't around anymore, but I hadn't spoken to her in three years and I hadn't seen her in longer. She stopped being an important person in my life a long time ago.

When I got downstairs for breakfast I found myself standing on the outside looking in, like I always felt in this family. My loud-mouthed brother Ryen was joking with Crispen, our oldest brother. Ryen was motioning widely with his stubby muscular arms while Crispen laughed raucously to his antics. Crispen was the best looking of my brothers, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, all-American surfer look. He had landed a hot fiancé and she was here too, helping my father cook some pancakes.

I watched as my dad, a slightly overweight and typically merry old man, laughed at Julia's attempt to help him in the kitchen. He was a pretty well known chef and was chef de cuisine at The Cornucopia, a modern fine dining restaurant near the Capitol. He really didn't need help in the kitchen, but I could tell he liked Julia as he was letting her ladle the batter into the pans, even though she wasn't doing it properly.

I took my seat begrudgingly across from my brothers and didn't say a word even when Ryen tried provoking me.

"Did you like that fist, Peet Peet?"

I gritted my teeth. He knew full well how much I hated that baby name our mother had taken to calling me before dad had divorced her and won sole custody of the three of us.

"Come on now, Ryen. You know he did. Gays love that S&M shit." Crispen laughed at his joke.

"Knock it off!" Our dad shouted from the stove.

I just rolled my eyes and dug into the pancakes already cooked and placed on the table. I ate them fast and then flew out the front door, ignoring my dad's questions about my attire.

"Peeta did you not see I left out your suit from prom for you?"

I stormed down our private driveway towards where my dad had left his black Lexus LX. I knew we would all be taking his car together and I wanted shotgun. I figured if my dad had forced me to return for this funeral I at least deserved to sit up front. I pulled out another joint and lit it hurriedly. I wanted to smoke some before everyone finished up in there and we were off to the cemetery. I pinched the j between my thumb and index finger, inhaling the sweet smoke and holding it in my lungs briefly. With each drag I felt myself calming. My brothers always got me so worked up. They were never the most accepting pair, but by sophomore year of high school they had both gone away to college and I was all alone. With them gone most of the year I found I had little tolerance left for them in the short periods of time we were forced to share the same roof.

I blew the smoke out my nostrils and put out the joint on the brick pavers. I still had about half of it left. I would need that for the reception after the funeral. It was obnoxious just imagining all the fake pity we would receive when no one actually cared. My dad was only hosting this funeral out of some misguided effort to give me closure and because her trailer park trash boyfriend couldn't, he was too poor and in jail, having been caught peddling narcotics. The best choice for my worthless mother. He probably fed her addiction well.

The irony wasn't lost on me as I patted the joint in my pocket. But I was different. I would never be like her. Her drugs of choice were painkillers and things like Xanax and Ambien. All mixed with alcohol of course. I preferred the natural substances. Weed. Shrooms. Salvia, once. I didn't think there was anything wrong with using weed on a regular basis and I saw a study by John Hopkins that said something about mushrooms being able to improve psychological health long term and giving the participants one of their most spiritual moments ever. So yeah, fuck pharmaceutically made drugs. The earth can give you everything you need.

I found my mind wondering off on more weird tangents, the result of the smoked out brain, as my family made their way out the door. I hoped for a minute the smell had not lingered around the car and then thought, fuck it. I didn't care if they smelled it. I wasn't going to pretend like today was a big deal to me. Once I heard the click of the car unlocking I slipped into the front seat, put in my headphones and started listening to music from my iPhone. My brother Ryen swatted the back of my head when he got in the back seat and I turned around to punch him, hard, in the thigh as he held his hands like he didn't do it. I thought I heard my dad yell at us, but I wasn't sure with the music. I just sat back in my seat and ignored everyone's presence.

The funeral was lead by the local head Buddhist monk. He was from the temple recently built that my father started attending as he found spirituality. He gave her some sappy send off while people faked grieving. The Buddhist monk waxed philosophically about the transcendence of life and how it's all impermanent and blah, blah, blah. I pretty much tuned out in the first five minutes. It was very disconcerting being so close to her body, but not being able to see her. My dad had of course bought her some lovely cherry wood coffin and looking at it I felt she didn't deserve it. Any of it. I was slowly getting upset over the whole affair and was very glad I was stoned for it. It kept my mind calm and easily distracted, like that of a child. If I focused too much on thinking about her I don't know what I would have done. I wanted to think I'd be angry and smart with my words, but I'd probably just lose my temper and cry like a bitch.

I found my eyes wondering about the cemetery. Noting the cloudless blue sky and the happily chirping birds that took flight from a nearby tree. Oh how I wished I could join them in flight. Just sever all ties and fly away to a place were no one knew me and I could be remade.

Then my eyes caught those of a smoky grey variety across the grave pit. I couldn't make myself break the contact although his presence startled me. Those eyes always brought me back to happier times when we were content and in love. Then I would struggle free from the spell they cast and all I could see was a man I no longer recognized and how it had ended.

Marvel had grown out his golden brown hair and styled it in a trendy mess across his forehead. His pink lips still looked as kissable as ever and he was dressed in a modest black collared polo that hugged his swimmer build. He wore pressed khaki shorts with his hands shoved in the pockets and a slouched posture. When he caught my eyes he tried to give me a consoling face, but my eyes darted to my mother's coffin. I stared at it intently as if willing the dead body within to burst forth and disrupt the ceremony, anything to distract me and keep from having to deal with him.

I wondered who had told him. I sure hadn't. Maybe my father? He tried to be over supportive of my sexuality when my brothers were so antagonistic about it and it often grated me just as much as their glib homophobia. It seemed like my family could find no middle ground. Either way word was sure to spread of my return to Panem now if Marvel and Katniss both knew I was here. I began to wonder what tragic direction this summer would take as the funeral wrapped up and we were brought forward to drop dirt on my mothers lowered casket.

I picked up a handful of the rich soil and dropped it over her coffin. I tried to make all my buried feelings towards her expel from me with the dirt from my palm. I wanted it buried away with her. I would no longer carry her in my heart nor the scars of her love.

Back at my fathers house we held a lunch reception. It was quite a perverse affair as people gave false condolences, knowing the truth of her broken habits, and my family pretending to care for the loss of a terrible woman. I ate one of the sandwiches catered from The Cornucopia and took another to eat alone out back on the patio. Our house was a large two story classically styled beach house. With grey siding, a dark shingled roof and white painted rafter beams holding up the high peaked roof. Our top deck had a fabulous view of the ocean, but on the first floor the protected vegetation that was part of the Panem Beach State Park blocked the view. Sadly I was not alone for long.

"Peeta, come back inside. We still have guests," My dad said in his deep voice.

Looking at him I found his recently acquired salt and pepper goatee annoyed me. I ignored him and continued chewing my food noisily.

"Peeta, why are you being like this? I just want to help you. I know your mother was awful to you, but I thought maybe with this we could all move on from it. Put her behind us and find closure."

He reached out to touch my shoulder and I shrugged it off. "No, _Dad, _you don't know how awful she was to me. It took you two years to realize what was going on. You had no idea what to do then and you sure as hell don't know what to do now."

I paced on the porch in front of my dad waving my arms about animatedly while my father took my abuse.

"You really thought some overly sentimental funeral, fake smiles, and a reception filled with guests who probably never knew mom would make everything _better?_" I demanded.

"I'm sorry, son. I-I wish I knew how to atone for the sins of this family."

He then left me fuming on the deck and a crushed sandwich in my left hand. I plopped back down onto the steps that lead to the back yard and a sandy bath to the beach. I tried to do some yoga breathing I learned from my stretch and relaxation class. Yes that was a real class they offered and I gladly took it. I used it mostly for naps and the fact that if I just showed up there was no way I couldn't pass. It was pass/fail. Simple. I felt the breathing trick working and I slowly relaxed.

Then I felt the hair on my neck tingle again. I turned around to find I truly was being watched this time and by none other than Marvel Cassel.

"That's really creepy."

He held his hands up and shrugged guilty as charged. "Sorry. That seat taken?"

I looked at the open space next to me on the stairs and then back at him.

"Yes."

He took a seat anyways. Of course he did. He was Marvel and he did what he wanted. Like show up at my dorm room at Arizona State unannounced and come to my mother's funeral uninvited. His father owned all the local branches of Panem Banking and his obscene wealth had left the only child Marvel with a large sense of entitlement.

"Sucks you have to put up with all this. I know if you'd had any say you'd have had her cremated and scattered over a landfill or something," He joked.

The picture he planted in my head was actually a gratifying one and I smiled against my will. I wanted to ask him why he was back here, did he leave LA or was he just here for my mother's funeral?

"Ah, there's that beautiful smile. I like the hair color by the way. The dark suits you."

I scrunched my nose and made an ugly face just for him. "You've seen it before. You know when you came to 'visit' at ASU," I used finger quotes over the word.

"Yeah well I never said anything then so I'm saying it now." He smiled at me charmingly.

Fuck him for being so suave. I had yet to master the subtler arts of flirting. I knew how to be overtly sexual and get a guy into bed. But if I really liked someone I would wish for a more polished flirting technique like Marvels. He could work anyone with is charming smile and witty retorts.

"But really, Peeta. I'm sorry this happened. I'm sure you hate all the reminders of her…"

I watched a tall palm tree sway in the wind instead of replying. When I felt his hand on my wrist I looked at him questioningly. Why was he here? What did he hope to accomplish? Nothing had changed. Nothing could change.

His silver eyes trapped me in their depths and when he leaned forward to softly rest his lips against mine I didn't fight him off like I usually did. It must have been all the confusion inside of me from my mother's sudden overdose, returning to Panem, and dealing with a reunited family. So I let the kiss linger and I allowed his tongue to enter my mouth. But once he closed his eyes and moved to deepen the kiss I was jolted back to reality and pushed away from him, holding my fingers to my lips as if he had stung me.

"No, Marv. How many times do we have to do this?" I asked with exasperation.

Then I got up and went inside, leaving him on the patio with a startled expression. This morning had already proven to be as disastrous as I thought and even managed to throw me a few unexpected curve balls, like Marvel. I headed up to my room and locked myself away for the rest of the day. I was done. I'd given up on the day as fucked and got back in bed to listen to old Death Cab albums.

That evening I texted Gale and told him how absolutely fucked up everything already was here on my end. I silently wished he was here with me, but knew it was for the best that he was home with his family in Los Angeles. He really wasn't that far. I could drive down to visit him for the day if I so pleased.

He replied promptly: _Fuck, Peetie, I'm sorry. :( Wish we could smoke from Amber & veg out together watching PLLs. _

I laughed at his response. Amber was our bong. Well Gales, but he bought it for me, I'm the one that liked to smoke. But he would occasionally join me and we'd cuddle on his bed and watch on his laptop Pretty Little Liars. It was my secret shame. I loved the soapy Gossip Girl meets I Know What You Did Last Summer show and he indulged me on those occasions. He pretended to hate the show and would make fun of it as we watched. He always made me miss what was happening because I'd be laughing at what he said and we were high making us easily distracted.

I texted back: _Don't even joke. That's all I want right now!_

He replied:_ Well maybe you can visit me and I'll let you control the television remote. :P_

_Shut up! You are too good to me._

I got up from bed, in a happier mood after texting with Gale and decided I would go downstairs and scrounge for some food. I had skipped dinner, preferring not to spend it with my brothers and I had begun to feel slightly guilty for exploding on my dad. But I was not going to apologize for it. Luckily Ryen and Crispen were leaving tomorrow morning, Crispen had a job in Austin, TX to get back too and Ryen started summer school at his university in New Hampshire. I was pissed his summer plans had not been ruined like mine because of Mom's death.

I found downstairs deserted and I checked my phone to see it was 9:45pm. It seemed everyone had taken to my method of coping by shutting themselves in their rooms. I found some left over ham Panini's from the catered food and I ate one while holding a second in my other hand. I then walked outside and headed down the sandy path to the beach. I had to hike down a few rocks to make it to the sand, but luckily my house wasn't that far up the cliff side as others, making it still a manageable trek to the beach.

The only light I had was what the crescent shaped moon and stars in the night sky shared with me. I breathed in the salty ocean air and savored its flavor on my tongue. I sat on the compacted sand about halfway to the sea and watched hypnotized as the foamy waves crashed and surged the water up the sand. I figured it must have been working its way up to high tide.

I saw someone jogging on the beach as I bit into the second Panini. As the womanly figure got closer I recognized it as Katniss. This time I called out to her from the dark.

"Katniss!"

She veered from her path and jogged over to my spot on the sand. She pants with her hands on her knees. She's wearing small neon pink sports shorts and a pink headband.

"Hey fancy seeing you again. We have to stop meeting like this."

"You know I can't help it," I play along.

"So what brings ya out here?" She takes a seat next to me on the sand.

"Oh you know, usual angst."

"I did hear about your mom dying. Must be weird."

For some reason I'm not uncomfortable with the fact that she brought up my mom, most people knew what happened, it was pretty big news in our town. When I was eight years old she had injured her back at her job at the Country Club. They offered riding lessons or sunset horseback riding tours at the Panem Beach Club. My mom worked as a guide and trainer for horseback riding and was thrown from her horse. That was the catalyst for a complete change in my mother's behavior. She had never been a pleasant woman, but she had loved her job with the horses more than anything.

"Yeah… I'm just kind of pissed with my dad. I mean she fucking tortured me for over two years when she became addicted to painkillers and lost her job. I still have a scar on my collar bone from where she put out a cigarette on me," I raged.

It felt fantastic to be able to get this off my chest and Katniss was the perfect person for the job. We had never been the closest of friends in high school, just because we had different friends. But we were always sociable and had fun at parties together. She didn't have the greatest childhood either with her father getting killed because of his debts to some loan shark.

"Shit, I never knew exactly what happened. Only what the papers reported when she was arrested," Katniss said as another jogger ran past us on the sand.

"Yeah. I stayed the good little boy who wanted to please mommy. I hid it and believed and accepted her apologies as genuine. Then some nameless teacher saved me. She must have noticed the bruises I tried to hide. The ones my father never saw as he worked most evenings until I was in bed. Child protective services got involved and my father finally realized what was happening at home and divorced her. Got custody of us and we severed all ties with her. Now he tries to throw a funeral for her and bury her with respect? It's ridiculous."

After being stripped of everything, thrown in jail for a few months and her face plastered all over the local papers she ran away to the Seam, a poor trailer park town outside of Panem. It gets its name from a fault line that runs nearby it, which keeps the property values low and so a bunch of trailer parks and mobile homes quickly over ran the town. That's where she met her most recent boyfriend who was an Oxycontin dealer and fed her habit until it killed her by an apparent overdose last week.

"It is. But guess what? She's dead now. There is no longer the threat of her out there ever hurting you again," She said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

She was right. It was amazing, like a cloud was being lifted from my mind. It was something I had never really noticed was there, like the sky had been cloudy and grey for so long I forgot what it looked like open and blue. I had been living with the fear of my mother for so long that I didn't know what it was like with out her. And now here I was facing a reality where my mother was no longer part of the picture. It was strangely liberating.

"Thanks Katniss. Sorry for dropping that shit brick on you. I think I'll definitely come by work some time."

She popped up, ready to complete her run.

"No problem, Peeta. Well then I'll see ya soon. Don't mope for too long!" She said as she ran back down the beach.

I was glad I had talked to her. She had a great perspective on things. If only I could find a way to be that strong and resilient, instead of running from my problems. But there was one thing I didn't have to run from anymore. My mother. She was truly gone from my life. All that was left were memories, which I had learned long ago how to block out.

I finished the Panini and headed back to the house slightly more optimistic about how this summer might turn out. Maybe things didn't have to be so bad. Everything that had happened was all in the past. It couldn't hurt me now. But I was still going to take it one day at a time for now.

* * *

A large cloud moved across the sky and blotted out the light from the moon. It brought with it a sense of foreboding and even quieted the animals. The ocean looked black like ink and tormented as large sets of waves began to break over the sand bar with roaring crashes.

Katniss was jogging along the expansive empty beach headed back south from Peeta towards her house. A sheen of sweat covered her body and she was slowly tiring from the run as was evident in her strained movements as her legs grew sluggish from the work out the sand was giving her. She stopped to catch her breath and bowed her head between her legs. She took breaths in through her nose and expelled them from her mouth while her muscles screamed for the oxygen. The only sounds to be heard were her sharp breaths and the boom of a breaking wave. When her pulse evened out she looked back up and was startled to find someone standing in the dark of the beach across from her. Her eyes strained to make out any details of the person, but she couldn't even tell the sex of the figure before her.

"Hello?" She called out hesitantly as she stood up straight.

The person said nothing, instead just stepping closer. She felt her heart rate begin to climb again and so she started jogging again, but headed up the beach towards the road and away from the shadowy figure. She kept tossing glances over her shoulder as she ran through the beach parking lot to check that the person wasn't following her. When she was out of the deserted parking lot and onto the paved road that would lead to 12th street where her home was located she felt a little better. She was frustrated with herself for leaving her cell phone at home.

The distance between streetlights was too wide to her liking and there were no homes nearby as it was still state park land. So she tried to run, but found her legs too strained to keep it up for long and soon she was back down to walking briskly. Her muscles ached for a break. She felt the approach before she heard it. It was like every alarm in her body was going off at once, screaming danger, danger! Then she heard it, the scuffing of a shoe against the pavement.

She swung around on the spot to see someone sprinting at her full speed. He was dressed in a black tracksuit with a hoodie pulled up around his head and a terrifying sight obscuring the face. The person was wearing a porcelain doll mask. The shocking white of the ceramic glinted in the light from the nearest streetlamp, it had blood red baby doll lips, and spider webbed cracks along the right cheek. She could see no eyes in the dark holes of the mask, but could sense the fury they contained.

Before she had time to scream or run or make a move to defend herself the person was upon her and had shoved into her gut a large hunting knife with a serrated edge along the top. The cold metal pierced deep into her stomach with frightening ease. She cried out and the sound echoed around the empty street as she clung to the attacker. He gripped her right shoulder with his left hand as he twisted the knife in her stomach then ripped it out and rammed it back in, the jagged edge along the top quickly shredding her insides.

"Ahhha!" She screamed.

She watched over the persons shoulder in abject horror as her own blood was spattered across the pavement as this masked figure stabbed her again. Tears escaped from the corners of her eyes as she slipped from the attackers body and collapsed on the road convulsing slightly. She looked up at the hooded figure that towered over her with wide shaken eyes. She held trembling hands against her eviscerated stomach, trying to staunch the bleeding and hold in any organs that threatened to spill forth. Katniss' hands glistened with her warm blood as it seeped out over her them with each rise and fall of her sobbing breath.

"P-please…" She begged.

The assailant cocked his head at her. Then he raised the large hunting knife back up with blood dripping from its point and flesh stuck to the saw-toothed part of the knife. He held it above her and then swung it down and into Katniss' chest one final time with a sickeningly slick suctioning sound as she tried to scream for help. But it was too little too late. Her head rolled to the side motionless and a small drop of blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

**Reviews and constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated and help motivate me. **


	2. Falling in Place

**Thank you to those that took the time to review. I really appreciate it.**

Falling in Place

I was forced up earlier than I appreciated yet again. This time it was my dad who woke me so it was a gentler affair than when Ryen took the task upon himself. My head was buried deep under my pillows again and he peeled them away while shaking me gently.

"Son, it's time to get up. I'm taking your brothers and Julia to the airport. Come say goodbye."

"Uhg…" I groaned theatrically.

"Up! Up!"

My dad then went around my room opening all the blinds and when I tried to pull the pillow back over my face he ripped it from my grasp. Then he walked out muttering to himself about lazy teenagers. Well I was awake now. Maybe he played just as rough as my brother. I squinted at the sun bursting through my eastern window like a coal miner being thrust back into the world of daylight after working in the dark mines.

I pulled myself from bed and stood before the mirror. My hair sat in a rat's nest atop my forehead and my usually bright blue eyes were subdued with sleep. I fingered the stubble growing along my squared jaw and checked out my figure under my tank. I had a lightly defined body I was proud of and luckily didn't have to work on too hard to keep. That did make me think I should do some crunches and push-ups this morning. But then my pale skin distracted me. I was horrified and really had no excuse other than I had become a night owl while in college. I mean I went to school in Phoenix, sunny all day, every day, and lived in a California beach town yet I could have been mistaken for one of those Twilight vampires. Thank god I didn't sparkle in the sunlight. Maybe after my brothers left today I would head over to the Capitol, soak up some sun and visit Katniss.

I went over to my backpack and checked my stash that I had brought back with me from ASU. It was a disappointing sight. I only had one nug left in the small round tin. I could either try to make it last in my pink pipe by smoking small bowls or make one large joint. I chose the latter, figuring I might make a day out of it on the beach and ride the coaster for free with Katniss.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my dad shout for me from downstairs. I guessed they were leaving. With nothing more to distract me I ran downstairs to get it over with quickly, like removing a bandage. It wouldn't hurt as bad as the waiting and thinking about it would, I just had to do it and quit hesitating. When I got downstairs I found everyone with his or her luggage bags heading out the door. I was still in my bright colored boxer trunks (turquoise today) and heard the yard guys outside so I stayed inside instead of following them to load the car. My dad berated me about always being in my underwear, but really he should be used to it by now. I never wore pants when hanging out at home, it just wasn't my thing and I could have cared less if it made my brothers uncomfortable to see me in my 'gay man's panties' as they were prone to calling them. In fact it only egged me on.

Crispen carried all of his and Julia's luggage to the car so she lingered in the doorway with me.

"Well I know it wasn't under the greatest circumstances but it was good to see you again, Peeta," Julia said with a kind smile.

She leaned in to hug me goodbye and her blonde hair smelled sweetly of peaches. While I might never get along with either of my brothers I could at least respect Crispen's choice in women. Julia was a great girl and kinder than Crispen ever would be. I secretly hoped that over the years she would rub off on him. But knowing me by then it wouldn't matter, like my mother, I had already assigned him along with Ryen to the back repositories of my brain not to be cared for or thought much of again. Like a woman scorned I knew how to hold a grudge.

"Goodbye, Julia."

She went out to the car and slapped my brother who was already seated in the car. He ducked his head in mock shame then climbed out to head back over to me while my dad argued with Ryen about getting the mop of hair on his head cut.

"Well, I'll be seeing you at my wedding bro."

He held out his hand and I rolled my eyes as I slapped it away.

"When will that be again?"

He chewed his cheek for a second. "Um, Julia's all about the dates and planning and such. But it's gonna be sometime in July. You and Ryen better throw a killer bachelor party. I want strippers, inflatable women—" He grinned as I cut him off.

"You're disgusting. Just leave already." I shoved him out the door while he laughed.

My dad had to yell at Ryen some more about going back in to say goodbye to me and really I could have done with out it. But Dad dragged Ryen back to the house anyways. He really wanted to make us get along but it was never going to happen. We stared at each other with crossed arms until our dad slapped Ryen over the head.

"Jesus is it so hard to say goodbye to your brother?"

Ryen pretended to contemplate it. "No, guess not. Catch ya at the wedding, Peetie. Or are you going to protest it because a dick can't marry another dick?"

"Just get out to the car!" Dad raged and then looked at me with sympathetic eyes.

"It's fine dad. I'm used to it from him."

"I just wish he handled the whole thing better. I raised you all to be accepting. I don't get it." He rubbed his face with a sigh.

I didn't say what I really thought. That it was mom who raised us until he was forced to take sole custody. Her hateful personality really already raised Ryen to the age of fourteen by then and it was too late for his liberal viewpoint to stick. But realistically it meant little to me; I had long ago accepted my identity and Ryen's words were not going to change that.

"You know I, uh, support your right to marry? Or you know, not if you don't want to," My dad asked.

"Yeah I get it dad. You support me. Just go drive them to the airport already," I said and pushed him out the door, closing it behind him.

Jesus, he always did this. Forced my brothers and I together and then when they got homophobic he had to go overboard in trying to make up for it. I really didn't need his pity or feigned interest in my sexuality.

Now with the house to myself I made myself some breakfast. Sliced bananas with toasted pecans and some molasses syrup drizzled on top. It was easy to make and quite filling. While eating I broke apart my last nugget of weed to roll up in some papers for my joint knowing my dad would not be back anytime soon. He would probably go into the Cornucopia to work on the summer menu. The process of making the joint would take some time as I lacked a grinder to speed me along and I wanted my last joint to smoke smoothly.

After a quick shower and throwing on some checkered red swim trunks I headed out to the Capitol Boardwalk with a towel in hand and my Ray Bans on the bridge of my nose. I smoked the joint on the walk down the beach. There were never too many people out down my way due to all the action being at the Capitol allowing me to smoke the marijuana openly. It was a perfect summer day. The temperature was still higher than average, but 84 was not a bad price to pay on a day like today with the sun shining brightly with nary a cloud in the sky. There was a perfect cooling breeze that swept up off the sea aromatizing the air around me and dispersing the clouds of smoke I expelled from my lungs.

As I walked I tried to make an O shape with the smoke I blew out, but I never had mastered the trick. Marvel was always the master at blowing (pun intended). I had tried to have him teach me on the lazy Saturday afternoons we spent in bed together just smoking and fucking. But the skill always evaded my grasp, I couldn't get my lips and tongue to shape properly and I always blew to fast. Marvel would tease me mercilessly for lacking the finesse and compare it to my blowjob skills. I would get indignant and huffy with him, threatening to leave and once I would try to extricate myself from his cloud like bed he would pull me back in and hold my whole body down kissing me until I smiled. But the jab at my oral skills in bed would cost him the next time we had sex.

I hadn't thought of those lazy weekends spent together in a long time. It seemed as if all the good had been wiped from my mind last summer and it startled me to be transported back to those moments. The good memories always disturbed me, like they shouldn't have been there with their warm glowing effects, because all that was left in my mind was the darkness. The weed must have been making me sentimental. So I shook the thoughts from my mind, scattering them from my presence like a child disturbing a flock of pigeons making them disperse in every which direction. Sure they'd find their way back together, but for now they were gone.

By the time I reached the Capitol Boardwalk I had put out the joint to save the last half for later in the day. I really needed to find someone who dealt. This was going to become a problem by tomorrow when I had no weed and nothing to do to distract me in this small town. I feared what might happen when I got desperate. I was sure Marvel still dealt or at least had the connections, but I was not going to use them. I did not want to give him more mixed signals.

I spread out the old Finding Nemo themed towel, took off my tank top and lay down to soak up some of the sun and hopefully tame my ghostly skin. The suns rays kissed my skin and the sand seeped its captured heat into my towel warming my back. My brain felt that familiar foggy buzz descend on it while it drifted from random thought to another like a game of hopscotch. But it kept landing on Marvel and his insistent nature. He truly seemed unable or unwilling to let me go. I really couldn't understand why he kept coming back to me. He could have had any guy he wanted. He had been living in West Hollywood for Christ sake, that place was filled with hot built gay guys.

During the school year when he had tried to persuade me I didn't really want to be broken up with him I got fed up and nasty. I did not like being told by him what I was feeling and I hated when people presumed to know what I should do. I hated what had happened and while I may have loved him I couldn't forget so easily. As he tried to reel me back in he only pushed me further away. It got to the point that he was scaring Gale, he didn't think Marvel's behavior was normal and I was beginning to agree with him. But now that I was back in Panem Beach and I could see how fucked up everything was for everyone else I could no longer delude myself into thinking it was just my life that was shaken. Cato had dropped out of college and moved back home. It seemed Marvel had done the same thing and his actions no longer seemed so desperate, but that of a man fighting to save something good. I did not know what had happened to Clove or Glimmer, but I felt maybe I should find out. Maybe we were all just as lost as the other in our own suffering, having fallen from each others graces so fast we never gave one another the chance to cope together and now we were all trapped in our own solitary confinement of anguish believing we alone suffered most.

I rolled onto my stomach so my back could absorb the sun and I rested my head, heavy with thoughts, on my folded arms. From this position I could watch the people around me on the beach and it helped distract me from my critical inner monologue. A group of high school kids were playing some freestyle volleyball a little ways from me and so I observed as they hit the ball back and forth with upturned wrists, a fist or open palm. I watched hypnotized as the white ball sailed back and forth, never touching the ground.

Eventually I grew bored of watching their sport turn to roughhousing (the straight man's excuse to touch each other with out being seen as gay) and the roasting heat of the afternoon sun so I got up and made my way to the pier. I figured a ride on the coaster that went out over the water would be refreshing and fun while high. I walked past the line of restaurants as they opened for lunch and passed the familiar black marble archway to District 1. Then I found myself in Capitol Park at the tip of the pier. This was where most of the students, free for the summer, came to hang out and it was already pretty crowded for a Monday. Little kids and pre-teen boys ran about in the arcade to my right raucously like escaped zoo animals. As I passed the House of Horrors and more fairground type games I saw a line forming to ride the Capitol Coaster and headed towards it. The roller coaster rose high above the pier and dropped down out over the water to then twisted and wind its way over the other rides on the pier.

As I neared the entrance to the line a man pushed past me briskly in the Capitol Park uniform. I saw him motioning animatedly with the attendant already up at the rides operating podium. I scanned over the heads of those in line but couldn't spot Katniss anywhere. I made my way up to the employees and heard the lively one yelling about Katniss. Apparently she hadn't come in today and they were short on staff so they were shifting everyone around today to accommodate some summer camp.

I walked away uninterested in the pier. I hadn't brought my wallet so riding anything with out Katniss to get me on for free was out of the question. I wondered for a moment why she skipped work today. She must have partied with Estee after I saw her last night. Those two girls in high school never did anything the day after a wild night out, they fed off each other's energy until they usually passed out drunk and slept through the whole next day. I imagined Katniss cooped up in her room, moaning about her hang over with all the blinds shut and eating greasy delivery on her bed with Estee.

I wondered the boardwalk aimlessly and resigned myself to the fact that my summer was going to be one fucking long stretch of boring. I made my way in and out of a few shops, but everything was too high-end for me at the moment and then I remembered there was one kitschy tourist shop at the end of the boardwalk. There always had to be a little tacky store for tourists to get I heart Panem Beach shirts and shot glasses. I changed course and headed to the southern point of the boardwalk.

I knew which store it was immediately. The Hob was very recognizable as it was the only storefront property left on the boardwalk still with its original wooden structure. All the other fancy stores had remodeled when they moved in and built up a very modern look with white washed stone. The Hob remained steadfast in its stubbornness to conform and I think that helped keep it in business. Everyone who saw it wanted to go in it because it was just something different from what lined the walk down the beach along with the fact that it had odd little knick-knacks placed out front to entice you with their cheap prices. Nowhere else along the boardwalk could someone find such cheaply priced inventory.

I nodded hello to the tacky stuffed great white shark that had been propped out front their door since as long as I could remember and walked inside. It seemed Old Lady Sae, the shop owner, had lost her touch with witty t-shirts as I made my way up and down the aisles. She was still selling the same touristy t-shirts from when I was last here well over a year ago. I found a wine glass that made my inebriated brain giggle and I wished I had my wallet so I could have bought it for Gale. The glass contained that over used saying 'Keep Calm and Carry On,' but it was changed to 'Keep Calm and Drink Wine'. Gale loved his wine as much as I loved to smoke and I knew he'd love the glass if I got it for him.

"You like that crap?" A gruff voice startled me from my thoughts of Gale's reaction to the present.

I turned with an indignant retort on my lips and froze. The last person I expected to see picking on my souvenir choices in the Hob was Cato. Yet there he was towering over me with a nametag on his right pectoral. He worked here? That was another shocker. The star lacrosse player and son of a hedge fund manager working at the Hob.

"You know making fun of the customers choices usually doesn't lead to increased sales," I managed to reply.

He gave a crinkled smile and I took a step back unsure of my feelings around him. After everything that had happened Marvel forced his presence on me enough that I didn't stutter upon seeing him. But Cato was the first of our group I had seen since last summer and carried the most blame in my mind. I was at a loss for how to react around him. He still looked as fit as ever as he towered over me in the aisle. His light blonde hair was swept up in the front and his attractive angular face smiled down at me.

"How ya been smart ass?" He asked with a slap to my shoulder.

His powerful arms jolted me and my heart fluttered slightly from the contact. I disregarded the feeling and looked him in the eyes impassively.

"Fine."

He rolled his shoulders, unsure what to do with my curtness.

"So… uh are you back for the summer?" He finally threw out.

"Unwillingly. Mom died."

His cobalt eyes widened in shock at my statement. "Fuck, that's some shit."

"Yeah…"

"Well, welcome back man…." He remarked, still fishing for a way to make conversation stick. "You died your hair."

"Yeah, so everyone keeps saying."

I don't know why I was being so short to him. It wasn't his fault he was commenting on a well-worn subject. Okay why I was being a bitch to him probably was not that much of a mystery, but he and I had always gelled before graduation, we had our own snappy relationship, but it was always in a joking manner. So it was startling to watch myself be so terse with him now.

He crossed his arms and his large biceps bulged before me. I wondered if he had thrown himself into working out as a means of escape because those arms were never that big. I tried to keep my eyes focused on the tacky coral jewelry holder over his right shoulder.

"Well maybe we could catch up sometime now that you're back, you know when I'm not at work?"

He scratched at his forearm roughly but seemed unaware of it, like it were an old tic. I couldn't take this. It was too much. Seeing him again after all this time. Talking about my mother with him. Knowing that he'd dropped out of UCLA when he had a full ride for lacrosse. All while I was high. I freaked and quickly tried to make up some excuse to leave, but failed.

"Um, I gotta… I just gotta," I said stiffly and motioned to the front door where I swiftly headed with out answering his question.

Once outside I breathed in deeply and wished I were not so high. Maybe I would have handled that better or it wouldn't have felt so awkward. Instead I was running from the scene until I found myself in the cool shade beneath the pier. The giant wooden pillars that held up the dock above me were covered in barnacles up to my chest where the tide reached like they were thick socks. It smelled sharply of fish and algae, mixed with the scent of a cigarette. I looked around and promptly spotted the culprit leaning against one of the pillars with a cigarette hanging by her side as she looked out at the ocean lazily.

I recognized her by her short, spiky brown hairdo. It was Johanna. I couldn't take one step with out tripping over an old friend. It looked like I wasn't going to get free anytime soon so I bit the bullet and said hello.

"Can I help you?" She challenged with her sharp brown eyes having not recognized me.

I stepped closer to her. "Come on Joney, I'm insulted."

"Peeta bread is that you? Fuck me," Her eyes widened as she responded to my appearance in her typically vulgar way.

"So is this your new place? I like what you've done with all the barnacles." I motion to our surroundings.

"Fuck off. I'm taking a smoke break," She retorted.

"They let you take those?"

"No, but I take them anyways," She said with a slight smile curving her thin lips.

I had to laugh. I missed this girl. She had been part of our original gang, which had once included Cato, Clove, Marvel, Glimmer, Johanna and I. I felt guilty standing there with Johanna after all this time with out contact. I knew as she analyzed me she was thinking the same thing. She had no idea what truly happened to our group, why we suddenly broke apart almost overnight. She just knew what everyone else heard and probably assumed our shallow group was too ill equipped to handle the tragedy. Johanna just became more collateral damage.

"I like the hair. It really gives you that dark and brooding come fuck me look."

"Just what I was going for." I said.

She offered her cig to me and I took it. I didn't usually smoke cigarettes. I preferred weed if I was going to smoke anything, but I would share one occasionally with people and this gave me something to do with my fidgeting hands. I took a puff of the bitter smoke and was reminded why I didn't do this. She snickered at my disgruntled face, but at least being closer to the smoke helped mask the smell of fish.

"Oh yeah, I forgot you're a pothead elitist."

"Some things are just better," I shrugged as I passed the cancer stick back to her. "By the way, do you happen to know anyone who deals? I just ran out of my stash from ASU and things will be getting desperate soon."

"I know a guy or two. I could hook you up."

She crushed her cigarette out on the pillar she was leaning against and then when sure it wasn't smoking pocketed it. She may have been a snarky bitch, but she cared somewhere down there. I always saw it when she did things like that, saved her cigarette stubs to throw away at a later time when no trashcans were near. Sometimes she'd forget about them and then at school when digging in her pockets a pile of them would fall out and she'd get in-school detention. I swore she spent more afternoons with Mrs. Enobaria (the gym teacher and tormentor of all students who loved to preside over detention) than she did in class.

She walked past me and I forgot how tall she was. I wasn't the tallest guy in the world, but she was the tallest girl in our group and often reminded me how we were the same height at 5'7. She stood up straighter as she passed by with a raised eyebrow, a sly reminder of our shared height. I thought she was done with me and the guilt stabbed a little harder into my chest. But she turned to face from the sun once free of the piers shade and her tanned skin radiated brightly.

"You going to set up a glory hole down here or something?"

"Classy," I replied as I realized she wanted me to follow.

"God I fucking hate children," She said as we passed a group of screaming kids playing tag on the beach while theatrically plugging her ears as we passed their moms and giving them a glare.

"Glad to see some things never change. So where do you work?" I asked.

But I got the answer soon enough when we came to a stop out front of the Hob. Of course she did.

"Oh you work with Cato?"

"How do you know that?" She cocked her head intrigued that I knew this and studied me closely.

"Oh well I was just in there. Ran into him."

"So have you seen the others? Or are we trying to lay low and get out of town before anyone knows you're here," She asked.

I guess since I had broached the subject of our old friends first she felt no need to hold back anymore.

"People know I'm here. And no I haven't seen anyone else besides Marvel briefly. Have you?" I asked, genuinely intrigued as to everyone else's wellbeing.

"Well we haven't all exactly stayed in touch. I saw on Facebook that Glim just returned from her fashion school in San Francisco, she seemed peeved. Last I heard of Clove she had moved down to Ventura."

She looked at me expectantly as if challenging me, wanting to see if I knew more than I let on. That maybe we had all been staying in contact as friends in secret and laughing about how we got rid of Johanna. I think she was always slightly apprehensive of us because she was the poorest person in our group. Her father divorced her mom when real young and left them with nothing. Johanna swore him off, never speaking his name or talking of him again. Her mother had to move Johanna and her three sisters into a small two-bedroom apartment downtown while she worked two jobs to be able to put food on the table. After that happened I think she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, like we were going to banish her from our table at lunch just for becoming poor.

"I had no idea she moved to Ventura. I hope she's doing okay," I supplied.

"Johanna I don't pay you to socialize with friends on the boardwalk. I pay you to fake your job inside the store," Old Lady Sae said as her wrinkled and sunken face suddenly appeared by Johanna's side. Her eyes, full of cataracts, connected with mine and she had an expectant look on her face as if her grumpy visage might scare me off.

"Ah fuck. Okay, I'll text you later about that chronic, Peeta. Slavery beckons." She smirked at Mrs. Sae who swatted at her with the mail in her hand.

"Language young missy and if you don't start working I'm going to start charging _you_ to work here. Then you'll know a thing or two about slavery."

I shouted a quick bye and then left them to bicker shaking my head. I don't know how Johanna got away with half the shit she did, but she always found a way to worm her way into people's hearts and make them like her. Even against their better judgment, which is what seemed to have happened with Old Lady Sae. I briefly worried what might occur between Johanna and Cato. Knowing he worked with her unnerved me. Everything seemed to be falling in place before me like the set up for some absurd game and I had yet to figure out the rules or objective.

That night I sat on my queen sized bed with the comforter pulled up around me as I looked out the darkened window to watch the thunderstorm. It had rolled in that evening with dark stormy clouds that threatened to open up on me at any moment as I hurried home. Now I sat safely inside my bedroom watching the torrents of rain that fell from the sky in thick sheets, blanketing everything in sight. With the sun having set the clouds looked black as coal as they swirled about before me inundating the earth with their pent up condensation. The sound of the raindrops pelting the roof and my window when a gust of wind would blow it sideways was melodic in its persistence.

I enjoyed watching thunderstorms and waited with bated breath for the next crack of thunder. I loved sitting up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, or tea more recently, and watching a storm roll through. I sipped on my hibiscus tea with honey as a bolt of lightning crackled across the sky and lit up my room briefly. I finished the joint glad to have saved some. This was the perfect occasion to finish it since my high had mostly been wasted this afternoon with one awkward encounter after another with old friends. I warmed my hands on the hot cup of tea and reflected on how often I ended up sitting alone. I hated how I always seemed to end up by myself. But I didn't know how to change it. I still had everyone's number, but I couldn't bring myself to pick up my phone and make the simple call to end the loneliness. I wasn't even sure I still knew how to interact with groups of people. I was broken. If I had been in a bigger city I probably would have gone out tonight looking for a fuck. I could text Finnick, but it had only been two days since we fucked and I didn't want to lead him on.

The storm raged on and I felt my own inner turmoil reflected in the dark clouds. I was a lot like a thunderstorm. My feelings would boil and condense inside me like the moisture being whisked up by the clouds at sea. They would build and build inside until I couldn't hold it anymore and all the pain and pent up emotion would pour out of me in a violent storm that usually caught everyone around me by surprise. Afterwards everything would be calm and go back to normal. My feelings would be pushed back beneath the surface, waiting to build up until the next storm released them. I wondered when that point would come next.

My mind drifted to Gale, as it usually did in these self-pitying situations. He was really my only friend from the past year and I found my fingers itching around in the folds of my comforter for my cell. With the funeral yesterday and the trip down memory lane with old friends today I found I needed my roommate. With each new clap of thunder and bolt of lightening I flinched, seeing my own face reflected back at me from the glass window. I had a slightly reddened nose from the sun today, but otherwise had regained some light color. It was the look on my face that startled me. It was a completely demoralized look. Returning to Panem was even more draining than I expected.

With my recently discovered phone clutched in my hand I called Gale and waited for his pleasant voice to sound in my ear.

"Hey Peetie! What's up?" Gales chipper voice greeted.

I sighed with relief that he'd answered.

"Oh nothing really… It's storming here. What's the weather like in LA?" I asked.

"Fine. A little hot. No summer storms here—_haha_."

I heard the television on in the background and new he was watching Adult Swim. He was addicted to it, as I had witnessed in the dorms. The only time the TV was ever used in our room was when he was watching Adult Swim at night. I had actually gotten into it, especially when stoned. American Dad was my favorite, while he stayed up for Children's Hospital, some wacky show with that squeaky voiced woman from Will and Grace and a few others I recognized, but didn't know from where. I had not realized how much of a groove we had gotten into at school and now that I was parted from it I missed it badly. It was the only consistency in my life anymore, everything else was uncertain, like fog had descended upon my life and led me adrift. Gale could pull me from it sometimes and talking with him I realized how big and lonely my room was with out a roommate to keep my busy, even when I didn't want the attention.

We talked for the next half hour to the soundtrack of Adult Swim. I sipped on my tea and continued to watch the storm with fascination as Gale recounted to me his mother's new boyfriend's attempt at befriending Gale by taking him hunting along with his middle brother Rory. That man obviously had no idea what he was doing. The last thing in the world that would impress Gale was taking him out into the woods so he could shoot some defenseless creature. Gale was studious and academic with a large compassionate streak, which I had seen quite often when he was dealing with me. I was much like those defenseless woodland animals he couldn't kill, but already injured from a previous hunting accident and he wanted badly to nurse me back to health.

I just listened to his story and laughed loudly when he told me how the guy had brought along a crossbow thinking he'd demonstrate different weapons for Gale. He foolishly gave the crossbow to Rory who then proceeded to pull the trigger and shoot out their front tire.

Eventually he asked how I was doing as his tone shifted to a more serious one. I knew he would eventually bring it back around to me and I couldn't blame him for checking in. I had called because I was feeling distraught over my situation and he always knew how to read me. I chewed on my bottom lip while deciding what to tell him and what to leave out. I skipped over the Finnick thing, Gale didn't really like hearing about that stuff anyways, but I did tell him how Marvel tried kissing me.

"At your mother's funeral? Could he be more disturbed?" He asked.

"Yeah it was not the most opportune time." I laughed.

"Why do you always do that?" He asked exasperatedly.

I didn't know what to say. "He was my first… everything, Gale. I'll probably always make excuses for him."

I could tell I had made Gale upset by his silence. I was getting tired so I decided to cut our conversation short and say our goodbyes. When I hung up the phone I was right back to where I had started, feeling shitty and by myself. He had worked to distract me with frivolous stories about his mother's newest boyfriend and then when he went to ask about my problems I brushed them aside with humor or belittled them, which he absolutely hated. I used it every time with out fail to keep him at a distance when he got too close.

I turned off the bedside lamp and crawled up my bed and away from the storming window. I turned on the TV for some background noise and flipped it to Adult Swim with out really thinking. Then I laid my head down on the cool pillow and the remaining affects of the weed carried me off into my slumber.

* * *

The bonfire they had built on the beach flickered and crackled adding to the sensual ambiance of the beach at night. Cato and Glimmer could be heard laughing as they shared the remains of the bottle of Don Julio. I barely registered the sounds as I rolled playfully in the sand with Marvel. Our lips met and our tongues battled as I found myself atop Marvel. I pressed my groin against his with a teasingly light touch and looked up into his grey eyes, except I was startled to find dark blue eyes looking back at me heavy with lust. I tried to pull off of him, but Cato's strong arms held me in place and I couldn't deny the pulse I felt in my dick.

"You'll fucking do it! God help me you will fucking do this!" Marvel was yelling.

The wind on the beach picked up and now Cato was standing before me with his bloody hand in a vice like grip around my neck and Glimmer was crying. I could feel his blood slicked fingers flex to keep their purchase around my neck. Clove was standing there with both arms raised palm up in shock. Blood was spattered across her white lacey dress. I tried to claw and pound against Cato's grip but was unable to shake it.

There was a loud crash of thunder and suddenly I was alone on a deserted road. A car was parked to the side with steamed windows. As I neared it I heard a whimpered cry and noticed blood on the back windshield. I shook my head, that couldn't be right. Then there was a flash of lightning and I was in my bedroom where a shrouded figured stood at the foot of my bed watching me. He swayed lightly with the wind that blew through my open window. Then lightning erupted outside once more and the man was gone.

* * *

I awoke the next morning more exhausted than when I had gone to bed. The nightmares kept waking me up and giving me a fitful night of sleep. By far the creepiest of my dreams was the random shadowed figure at the foot of my bed. It did not seem to fit in with the overarching theme of my dreams and I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling it stirred in my belly.

The sun was shining brightly outside and I could hear the songs of the morning doves chirping clearly. Which was weird. I sat up in my bed, confused by the sounds of the outdoors that I could hear so clearly. I looked around my room in confusion until my eyes landed on the window next to my bed and a chill ran up my spine like a spider crawling across my skin with its delicate legs. It had to have been a dream. I'm just off put by the memories my dreams stirred up. I would have known otherwise, right? But my mind was taunted with other disturbing possibilities by the one window next to my bed. The window was left open.


	3. Destructive Forces

**I want to thank those of you that have reviewed and encouraged me to continue with this story. I had some trouble getting the words onto the page for this chapter, but I did it for the ones that wanted me to continue.**

Destructive Forces

After an unnerving morning at home I found myself in downtown Panem headed to a small French themed restaurant and patisserie. I worked there for one summer between sophomore and junior year as the decorator of the cakes, but was eventually fired for tardiness. My group of friends kept me out late one too many nights and I never managed to make it to my morning shifts until well into an hour after I was scheduled to work. Johanna had sent me a text this morning inviting me to lunch with her. She said she had got a half-track of weed for me and thought we could catch up. Being fresh out of my substance of choice and feeling like I owed her I quickly accepted her offer and brushed the nightmares under the rug in my mind. It was getting crowded under there with all the crap in my mind I kept sweeping from my thoughts. I chocked the experience last night up to being unsettled by my return home and the open window was just a trick my mind was playing. I had probably opened it in my sleep to cool off and the shadowy figure was definitely still just a dream; a representation of my fear of the unknown or some psychobabble shit like that.

I pulled my green Jeep Wrangler into a parking spot along Main St. in the underutilized downtown of Panem. It had a quaint charm to it and if it was just given the attention and money City Hall gave the Capitol it would be just as attractive to the tourists. Main Street was lined with the oldest buildings of Panem Beach. It was where the city was founded and could have done with a fresh coat of paint and some small renovations to their storefronts, like a replaced door here and some pressure washing there, to make it attractive. The only real nice part of it was where the Justice building was located. It was our City Hall that housed Mayor Snow's office, the city council, and local judges. It was an old domed building that looked like a transplant from some European city and the French restaurant was just a few buildings down from it.

Snow had been Mayor of Panem Beach for as long as I could remember. My dad said he rose to power as the wealthy moved to town and he only did what benefited him and his affluent benefactors, which was why the poorer areas of Panem always ended up neglected and disenfranchised. I had seen him only once at a benefit party held by Glimmer's dads that we had crashed in high school, otherwise he kept to himself and only re-emerged during the election year for campaign events.

The tinkle of the small bell attached to the door alerted the staff of Arrondissement Douze to my presence. The dining area was already packed with the lunch rush from business people on their break. I searched the tables for my friend and was surprised to find Johanna sitting at a large booth. I had an inkling of what she might be planning, but reserved my judgment for when I knew all the facts.

I slid into the cracked leather bench across from Johanna in the booth with an inquisitive look.

"Hey Peeta bread!" She said overly cheerful, like she were trying to mask the abundance of open space in the large booth with her exuberance.

"What's with the booth, Joney? Are we expecting more?"

She held my intense stare, never one to back down, but did not have to answer as it arrived in the form of Cato and Marvel.

"Hey," Marvel said.

He looked from me to Johanna and back.

"Shit, she didn't tell you I'd be coming, did she?" He deduced.

"No," I bit my lip.

Before any of them could say another word I stood and walked out. I heard Johanna groan in frustration at my actions as I made my way through the dining area and out the door. As the door to Douze closed behind me the noise from inside was blocked out too. I knew someone would come after me and I was proven right when I heard the chatter from inside reignite as the door pushed open and an arm grabbed my shoulder from behind. When I turned around I was surprised to find Cato was the one who followed me out.

"Fuck, Peeta I'm sorry she sprung this on you. I honestly had no idea she planned this either. I'll leave if you feel that strongly about me being here. But at least stay for the others. I'm sure she invited Glim and Clove. Johanna at least deserves to see everyone again. I work with her so…" He reasoned with a shrug.

And it worked well. It was shocking how he often knew the right words to say and it pissed me off. Why was he able to sway me so well?

"It's not because you're here. You know it's more than that. I—we all haven't been together like this in a long time," I sighed hating our situation.

"Come on, man. Maybe it will be good for us. What's that fucking word? Catharsic? If not, at least it will for Johanna. She would never admit it, but she's torn up over the gangs break up," He reasoned further.

His cobalt eyes held mine and I could see this was as painful and awkward for him as it was for me, which made me feel better in a cruel way.

"It's cathartic, meathead and fine. But I reserve the right to leave at any time," I qualified with a stern finger in his face.

"Of course, I expect nothing less, princess." He said with a roll of the eyes.

Asshole. His personality changes could give you whiplash. One moment he was chasing me down and reasoning with me with that surprising insight not many knew he held, the next he was giving me his attitude of superiority. But I couldn't deny it felt good to reclaim our old banter. And so I followed him back to our booth inside, which now held one more person.

"AH!" Glimmer squealed.

She threw her arms around both Cato and I although it was an awkward hug due to the vast height differences between the three of us. She stood at about 5'4 with petite features and a small nose. She was as beautiful as ever with her beach blonde locks flowing in immaculately curled waves to her mid-back. Her emerald eyes, surrounded by a light gold dusting of eye shadow, never ceased to give you pause when she turned the full force of them on you. Like she was doing now as she rejoiced in our reunion, which I found very surprising considering what a mess she had been the last time I saw her. But she was always the most shallow of the group, emotionally and physically. She was wearing a Balenciaga white doctors top frock that hung off her stick thin figure with indigo leggings and aqua colored ballerinas.

Marvel nodded his head at me in approval from his seat in the booth glad to see I had decided to come back. I didn't want to sit next to him so I tugged on Glim's arm to have her sit next to me on the other side of the booth with Johanna. Except before I could get seated I saw the last face of our group emerge from the restroom. Her black hair was cut short and her Snow White-esque skin glowed radiantly. She caught my eyes as she wiped her wet hands against her dark wash jeans and her lips thinned as she observed Cato from afar before moving to join us.

"Clove, I told you I thought that was Peeta Cato was talking to outside," Glim said as she motioned for Clove to hurry over and then she turned towards me. "She didn't believe me because of your brown hair!"

Clove rolled her shoulders, obviously not caring. But for Glimmer it was an important win. She was never the sharpest tool in our shed, but she knew how to put together an outfit, courtesy of being raised by her fashion designer dads. It couldn't have worked out better for her, she had the best accessory for her life: gay fashion prodigies for parents.

Clove hugged herself and nodded at Cato and I. "Hey."

"Wow, just wow. Look at all of us. Back together. Who'd have thought it?" Glimmer questioned with pep.

Everyone looked around at each other a little lost for words. How should we go about this? So much had changed and I wasn't sure how we would be able to just pick it all back up and start a conversation like nothing had happened. We all took our seats, Johanna, Glimmer and I on one side, Cato, Marvel and Clove on the other.

"It is pretty convenient how we are all back in town," Clove remarked with a studious look on her face.

Cato seemed just as uncomfortable as I, he scratched at his forearm absentmindedly again while Marvel rapped his knuckles against the table in an annoying fashion. He often had a penchant for tapping things to some unseen beat when he was bored or zoning out. I figured he must be off in his own world probably reliving some memories of all of us to be displaying his habit. Johanna spoke first obviously wanting to try to make this work.

"Peeta, Marv's got the baggie of weed for you. He and I pitched in for some too, I figured maybe we could all get a little high after lunch."

I looked at Johanna with betrayed eyes; he was the reason I went to her for weed and she knew that, but she just didn't even bat an eyelash at my stare.

"Oh, I for one would love that!" Glim clapped with excitement.

Marvel stopped his tapping at the mention of his name and joined in. "Yeah, it's some strong ganja. It should be fun."

"I'm down," Cato said as he cracked his knuckles obnoxiously. Clove glared, but refrained from input like me. She was used to being an overbearing girlfriend, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see she had given up on trying to control her ex's behavior.

The waitress came with waters and then we all took turns ordering our favorites. We had been here often enough that we didn't need time to look at the menu. The waitress paused when she got to Clove. It was an extremely painful moment as the woman recognized Clove's face, probably from the papers, and she turned to an overly sympathetic and doting waitress. She treated Clove as if she were a fragile child. When the waitress left us a silence fell over the table like a cold fog that made everyone shiver in discomfort. Sitting there reunited was an extremely disconcerting feeling and with the waitress' fresh reminder of what supposedly happened to our friend Clove we searched for a way to reconnect. We used to click so well. We were wild, untamed, loud and crass. We had fun and were full of energy. We were all inseparable ever since Marvel had reached out to me in freshman year English and our group banded together.

Back then Marvel had been dating Glimmer. Marvel and I did not become an item until our junior year when he started acting odd around me as I started to flirt with other guys, finally comfortable in my skin and ready to explore. He shocked me one day in the spring a few weeks after he had broken up with Glimmer. He confessed to me his true feelings and soon enough he was my first boyfriend. Glimmer took the whole thing in stride, she was used to the men in her life being gay, so finding out she had dated a gay man was neither scandalous nor devastating to her. If anything she found it a confidence boost making the following summer and senior year were one of the best times we had together as a group.

* * *

_Hahahahahaha, Dance._

A familiar looking blonde haired boy danced on a black leather sofa with another blonde. He carried himself in a carefree and happy demeanor. The girl whipped her long and luscious blonde locks back and forth on her head while shaking her ass. The boy, Peeta, took a swig of the Grey Goose, and then passed it to Glimmer with a grimace from the burn as it slid down his throat. Glim threw some back as well and then held the bottle to her lips as if it were a microphone.

"Back door cracked we don't need a key," She sang into the bottle.

"We get in for free, no VIP sleaze," Peeta joined in.

"Drink that Kool-Aid, follow my lead, now you're one of us you're coming with me," They sang together. In reality it was more like screaming instead of singing to the music as they bounced on the couch.

Johanna and Marvel were both lying on their stomachs on the soft shag carpet laughing at the antics before them while they shared a large blunt. Clove and Cato were making out on the love seat, ignoring most of the crazy taking place before them. Cato had her situated atop his lap as he groped her ass obscenely. It was a Friday night and the beginning of senior year. They had decided a party was in order to celebrate the last year of their high school lives. They were quickly in the process of becoming hammered and the party guests had yet to arrive at Glimmer's house. Her dad's were out of town for the beginning of Fashion Week in New York City (but was more like a month), which meant she had a large empty house available for partying. KE$HA continued to sing along with Peeta and Glimmer:

_This place about to_

_Blowwww_

_This place about to_

_Blow-oh-oh-oh-oh_

Eventually students from Capitol Prep started showing up, knowing a wild party was always to be had when thrown by Peeta's gang of friends. Soon a keg was tapped, red solo cups were being filled and handed out freely while shots and mixed drinks were copiously poured. Peeta was now riding on Marvels back, smoking the remnants of the joint as he was carried through the crowd of the party towards the kitchen. He held the joint in one hand and started sucking on Marvels ear, nibbling on his ear lobe and running his tongue along the edge sensually.

Marvel shifted and lifted Peeta's legs back up with his arms as he was loosing his grip because of Peeta's ministrations. "Fuck, Peeta. I'm trying to walk here."

"And I'm trying to taste you," Peeta whispered into his ear.

"You're the worst," Marvel said but smiled brightly. He loved when his boyfriend got fucked up and dirty.

He let Peeta down from his back, who let out a pitiful sigh at no longer being on his boyfriends back.

"Do you want a beer Peeta?"

"Fuck yes!" Peeta shouted in reply.

Marvel laughed and joined Cato at the keg. Cato had taken to standing guard at the beer, deciding who got some and who didn't since he was the one to buy it. Most people never questioned his age due to his size and if they did he had a fake ready along with extra cash to throw the cashiers way.

"Cato, man. Share some beer with a brotha?"

Cato was about to hand a cup of beer to another kid when instead he handed it to Marvel.

"I need one for Peeta too, thanks."

The guy denied a beer complained and Cato focused an intense stare on him. "You get to go to the back of the line, dude." His large and intimidating frame left no question about it and the kid got out of the line and headed to the back with out further question.

Johanna and Glimmer were dancing up against Clove on either side of her in a space they had cleared in the large living room. Glimmer was in a short floral summer dress and had hiked it up so she could spread her legs and gyrate sensually against Clove's ass. Johanna was holding Clove's hands for support while bending backwards, revealing her cleavage to the spectators behind her. Johanna's eyes connected with the blue eyes of hot-bodied dirty blonde male. He smirked at her and Johanna broke away from her two dancing friends to talk to him.

"Why hello there Gloss, I didn't think you'd be here." She purred and stood straight, making sure her cleavage was on full display. Johanna enjoyed how Gloss couldn't keep his eyes from darting down to glance at them.

"Yeah, well I asked Thresh to play nice tonight." Gloss replied stepping forward and into Johanna's space. She leaned forward and rested a hand on his strong bicep with a lascivious smile.

While Gloss and Johanna flirted with each other Clove took notice of the mans presence and stopped dancing. She turned to Glimmer with a worried look.

"Glim, look. Jeremy Gloss is here. You know what that means, Thresh is too. God damn it!"

Glimmer giggled uncontrollably as a boy behind her grabber her ass and lifter her up and away from Clove. "Oh, Clove, don't get your panties in a knot. Just have another beer!"

Clove, not as drunk as her friend, decided she was going to worry and sought out her boyfriend before he discovered Thresh had crashed the party.

"I've always got to do these things myself. Fucking whores can't keep it together…" She muttered to herself.

In the crowded kitchen a bottle-blonde with sharp features was lying down on the expansive granite counter top with her shirt pulled up to her purple bra, exposing her flat stomach. Peeta was standing by her with Katniss as they poured some vanilla flavored vodka around her belly button. She tensed her stomach trying to keep still so not to loose too much of the liquor. Marvel popped up by their side with a can of whipped cream, which he squirted on the girl's breasts.

"Hold still now Estee," Marvel said. "Peeta, Katniss do the body shot then lick the cream off her tits."

Peeta shook his head with glassy eyes. "Are you sure you're gay?"

Katniss grinned. "I'm so down. Ready Peeta?"

"Yeah."

Then they both dove down and slurped up noisily the liquor and Katniss quickly dove to suck off the whipped cream while Peeta swayed unsteadily, cringing from the shot. Marvel nudged him, "You gotta lick off the cream." Peeta regained his composure and licked the cream off Estee's breast only to gag.

"Fuck, Marvel was there liquor in that cream?"

Marvel was laughing his ass off as he showed him the specialty can of vodka infused whipped cream. But Peeta wasn't laughing as his face paled. He had reached his limit and felt his stomach rejecting the latest alcohol he had tried to down.

"I think I'm going to—" Peeta never finished that sentence as he lunged forward and barely made it to the sink to vomit. Marvel continued laughing as Peeta managed to throw him a middle finger while barfing copiously in the sink. Katniss and Estee were giggling and now hoped up on to the counter to dance, completely oblivious to Peeta's state as they pulled Marvel onto the counter with them. The crowd began cheering as the girls poured shots in his open mouth.

Peeta turned the faucet on to wash down his upchuck and leaned his head against the cool steel of the sink. Suddenly a hand was rubbing his back and he sighed in relief.

"It's about time you came to check on me babe." Peeta said

"Oh man, Peeta, I don't know if we are ready for that step in our relationship. Pet names?" Cato's deep voice laughed and Peeta hiccupped from the surprise.

"Oh, I thought… figures. That attention whore." Peeta muttered as he saw where Marvel was currently.

Cato massaged his back with his calloused fingers and Peeta felt his queasiness slowly dissipate. It's all he wanted was for someone to take care of him when he was feeling sick. He finally pulled his head out of the sink and turned to face Cato.

"Gimme that." Peeta took the solo cup of beer from Cato's hands right as he went for a sip and Peeta stole a gulp.

"Always demanding, can I get you anything else, Princess?" Cato shook his head, but couldn't suppress his smile.

Peeta rolled his eyes and grinned as he pushed Cato lightly. His hand came up against the steely muscles hidden beneath his shirt and he held them there for a beat before retracting them. "Please, you love being told what to do, it's why you date Clove. Besides, I needed to get that taste out of my mouth."

"I'll pretend not to be insulted by that." Cato replied sarcastically, but then suddenly his eyes darkened.

Peeta, even in his drunken state, managed to notice Cato's complete change in demeanor. "Cato?" He asked and then turned around to follow his line of sight to discover Thresh had just entered the kitchen with some of his friends from the football team. He was a large and formidable looking guy with thick arms and a wide chest. He was the star quarterback and Cato had developed a huge rivalry with him as they fought for the status of star athlete at the school. Peeta knew it was never good when they were both in the same place and alcohol was involved.

"Shit, who invited him?" Peeta asked as he put a hand on Cato's arm in hopes of restraining him, but Cato shoved him aside as he marched toward Thresh, his eyes never leaving his prey.

Clove finally made her way through the crowd to Peeta's side. "Have you seen Cato, Thresh is here!" She demanded.

"You're too late." He pointed towards Cato who had just reached Thresh and now they could be seen talking heatedly and posturing like typical testosterone fueled jocks.

"Ah, fuck." She ran to get to Cato's side, but it was too late. A punch was thrown and now a brawl broke out as some of Cato's lacrosse teammates joined in on the fight. Marvel dove off the counter and landed atop the growing brawl of men. Cato punched one guy so hard he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Peeta was used to these things and just resigned himself to the fact that police were probably going to be called. And he was dead on. The party ended quickly once someone called the cops and Sheriff Haymitch showed up with his Deputy Sheriff Coin. Thresh had Cato locked in a headlock as he punched Cato's gut until he heard the approaching sirens and then he threw Cato from him and took off running with his goons. Glimmer's house backed up to the rocky cliffs and the Pacific Ocean. But the cliffs were not too high up to be un-scalable. Peeta assumed that's where Thresh was headed for escape.

Somehow the only people left were Cato, Clove, Marvel, Johanna, Glimmer and Peeta. Like always, they had to endure the wrath of the local police force. It wasn't their first encounter with the local police and sure as hell not going to be their last.

"Why is it we break up more fights at your parties than at the local bars?" Coin asked sternly.

Haymitch pulled out his cuffs and swung them on his hand, only to lose them and they clattered loudly against the cement. Johanna sunk behind the rest of her friends with her hand covering her face in shame. He bent to get them and everyone wondered internally if he was drunk again, how ironic that he would be giving them tickets for drinking underage when he was drunk on the job. "You are all lucky we only have three pairs of cuffs on us or we'd put you all in them. But we will be writing you up for underage drinking, _again_."

"And calling your Fathers, Glimmer." Coin added.

"No, they'll never let me stay home alone again!" She cried out. Her hair was disheveled, there was a darkening hickey on her neck and her nipples were visible through her shirt with her bra nowhere in sight. Peeta laughed at the sight of it.

"Hopefully none of your parents will. And I don't see the humor in this, Mellark." Haymitch said as he wrote them up on his clipboard.

After the cops left, not even bothering to force them all home they were so used to this sight, the group went back inside.

"Fuck Thresh, that pussy just ran like the bitch he is once he heard the cops sirens." Cato raged, he had a split lip and he held his hand to his stomach tenderly.

"Could you think with your brain and not your testosterone for once you idiot!" Clove yelled at Cato as she hit against his biceps with her tiny fists.

As they fought Peeta tried to comfort Glimmer while she cried over her soon to be revoked staying home unsupervised privileges. He was abruptly interrupted as the music blasted back to life and Marvel and Johanna started passing out cups of beer. Marvel had managed to get a black eye in the fight, but acted as if nothing had happened. He had an insane tolerance for pain.

"Come on, fuck this mood!" Johanna shouted.

"It's our senior year, screw it! Haymitch, the drunk bastard, can't do anything to us, so lets keep drinking!" Marvel said. He had managed to get a black eye in the fight, but seemed quite undeterred. He had an insane tolerance for pain so Peeta didn't even bother trying to get him to ice it.

Glimmer perked back up at the sight of the alcohol while Clove and Cato calmed down and soon everyone was back to having a good time, because really dealing with the cops was nothing new for them. And somehow the night was salvaged and they all had a blast just the six of them. Peeta secretly thought this was how it should have been from the beginning, but he just shrugged because it ended up this way regardless. Wasn't there something about the journey being as great as the destination or something? He didn't really care if they got written up for underage drinking in the process.

"FUCK IT!" Peeta screamed as he stood back up on the couch dancing to the music and tearing his ticket up. "This is going to be the best year of our lives!" Then he threw the shreds of paper in the air and everyone danced as the confetti rained down on them.

* * *

Glimmer expelled the smoke in a loud and harsh cough. She held her hand to her chest comically. "Oh, oh, oh, it burns. I forgot!"

I smirked and laughed internally at her. She was the one in our group that had smoked the least and continued to stay a novice when it came to smoking weed. She always wanted to join in, but then after the first burning hit she wouldn't want to continue, which only ever kept her from learning how to handle it. But today she was being a trying her best as she sat on Cato's large sofa and took a hit from Marvel's pipe. Johanna sat on the other side of Cato and Marvel sat next to me, of course, on the opposing couch.

We were all in the large den of Cato's house. It was styled to make one think they had stepped back into the 1960's where the men would take a smoke break after dinner to the den and talk, away from their bothersome wives. Everything was muted in shades of brown, the leather couches where rusted brown and positioned near a master fireplace inlaid with dark red bricks and a California mountain lion's head mounted atop it. Cato's house was massive with a North and South facing wing and it backed right up to the breathtaking cliffs that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. He lived only a short ways from Glimmers house, but we all ended up here due to the fact that his house was the only empty one where we could safely smoke and chill.

Cato smoothed Glim's back and she fluttered her eyes at Cato as she passed the pipe to him for a hit. I wondered if she enjoyed the increased muscle mass Cato had put on since we saw him last summer. He was by no means overly muscular, but his biceps bulged from his sleeves and his pecs were easily defined against his taut t-shirt that even I had to admit made for a fine view.

We had all moved to Cato's house after a surprisingly enjoyable lunch. After Johanna forced us through the awkward conversations in the beginning we found an easy groove that kept dialogue going as we shared about our past year. Clove was the one who remained the most reserved and I wondered how she was doing. She had been the most affected by our deceit and I truly wished to know how she had handled the last year. Now she sat with her legs curled beneath her on one of the reclining chairs and it felt as if she were slightly removed from our group, an outsider watching us with an observant eye like she was trying to decipher some puzzle.

Johanna passed the pipe along to Clove after take two of her own greedy hits. "Ew, Joney, way to slobber all over the tip." Clove complained as she whipped the glass tip of the pipe on her shirt.

"I forgot you used to do that all the time! What did we call it?" Marvel asked as he laughed.

"Joney lippin' it!" Glim said and everyone broke into a fit of giggles.

"Shut up," Johanna said, but she was laughing too.

It felt good to laugh among friends. I had forgot what it was like to have inside jokes. Those were the best kind because it made you feel connected. They usually were the funniest and outsiders could never understand it, making it more precious.

I took Marvel's bowl from Clove and inhaled a big hit, holding the smoke in my lungs until I blew it out and most of the smoke had dissipated in my lungs. His glass pipe was a large dog and as I studied it I wondered if it was supposed to be a golden retriever, so I asked as I passed it to Marvel, whose fingers held onto mine as he took the piece from me. My skin tingled at the touch and I quickly withdrew my hand as his grey eyes held onto mine. Why did he have to be so damn enthralling?

"No, it was actually clear glass. I've just smoked from it so much it's turned brown with tar. So I guess now it could be a golden retriever, ha-ha." He smiled and bared all his perfectly straight pearly whites for me. Then he took a hit and blew out a perfect O with the smoke. The sight of those lips moving to shape the smoke caused a disturbing thought to enter my mind. I wanted him to kiss me again. Fuck. I continued to be disarmed by Marvel, by everyone for that matter. Fuck again. I wanted out. I couldn't breath. Suddenly this was all too much and I wanted to run from the room, the house, all the way home and just lock my door and hide under the covers of my bed until school started in the fall. No good could come of this reunion. We weren't worthy of happiness.

A high pitch giggle danced out of Glimmer's mouth and managed to free me from the trance Marvel lured me into. I looked over to see Glimmer practically on Cato's lap as they talked among themselves and she flirted heavily with him. Clove stood abruptly and said she was going for a walk.

"You okay?" Johanna asked, knowing she may have been upset by Glimmer's actions with Cato.

"Yeah, fine. The weeds just got me a little antsy. Fresh air will do me well." She replied and then headed out of the room.

I decided to follow her, also needing my own escape, but particularly interested in having some alone time with her in the hopes of learning more about her past year. I told Marvel not to follow me as he half-stood when he saw me go to leave. Johanna stepped in and distracted him as I went after Clove. I don't know if she was finally feeling guilty about ambushing me with everyone and betraying me by going to him for the weed, but I appreciated the gesture.

I found Clove kicking up some red mulch around Cato's well-manicured backyard. Her hands were in the pockets of her jeans and her shoulders were hunched. The view was breathtaking as the massive green lawn sprawled out before me and then dropped off precipitously to the endless blue ocean. It was a dangerous sight as the rocky bluffs called to you like a siren, beckoning you forward to its beauty, daring you to figure out where the grass ended and the air and ocean began.

Clove heard my approach and turned to face me with an exasperated look. "I told you I'm fine. Cato doesn't have any affect on me anymore." She said and I could tell she meant it. She was truly over him. I wished I could be so confident in my own feelings.

"I believe you. I just wanted the chance to talk with you, away from everyone else." I explained.

She nodded in acceptance and then started walking towards the sound of the roaring waves as they crashed against the rocks below. We walked in silence up to the edge of the cliffs and the salty breeze blew her hair about with wild abandon. I could tell it annoyed her slightly as she tried to tuck the hairs back behind her ear to no avail. Her hair was too short to tie back so she had to just let it whip about. I wondered what my own hair was doing as I felt it blow about atop my head.

"How's ASU?" She asked breaking the silence and her voice was quickly carried away on the breeze.

"Well it's no perfect weather LA, it's too hot and desert-y. But it was the school that was far enough away to accept me at the last minute. I needed the chance to escape, try and start over. Although I don't think I've succeeded on that front too much." I told her in truth. I figured it was the best approach. I had been planning to go to UCLA and live with Marvel, but last minute I tried transferring to other schools outside the state to escape and ASU was the one to accept me. "How's Ventura treating you?"

She pursed her lips and scanned the horizon with her topaz eyes, then turned and held eye contact with me and I could see everything. They say the eyes are the windows to your soul and I could see hers was as deeply scarred as mine. She didn't even have to tell me her reason for moving away and skipping out on college. I knew why. It was the same reason I ran to ASU. But I imagined the depths of her despair to be much worse than mine.

"It's fine. I live on the outskirts of the city where it's quiet and no one bothers me. I'm working with a battered women's shelter now. It doesn't pay much, but its worthy work." She finally answered.

I couldn't believe it. She was working at a shelter? That was the complete opposite of who Clove was, she didn't care about people, only herself. It just went to show me how much we had all changed. I didn't have to ask why she was working there it seemed like the perfect place for her to seek redemption.

"So why are you back?" I asked the question that I wanted to know most. Johanna never left, Cato dropped out of school, and Glimmer was interning from home for her two dad's fashion line. Clove didn't seem to have a reason to be back.

"I'm trying to figure something out," She replied vaguely. "I'll only be here a few days. I'm just crashing with Glimmer until I go back."

Clove's eyes turned critical again and I cocked my head at her, trying to figure out what she was working on in her mind. The wheels seemed to be turning, looking for an answer to a question I had yet to be let in on. My stomach danced and I couldn't help feeling judged and so I lashed out.

"Fine, I guess honesty is a one way street here. You can go back to sulking on your own, I wont intrude." I then stormed away from her with out waiting for a response. All I saw was her face withdraw stung and then I was gone.

I don't know why I had opened up to her like that and all I got was that she was working with abused women. She was here for a reason, I could tell that much, but she didn't trust me with the answer. This whole get together was ridiculous. We were deluding ourselves if we thought we could patch everything back together in a day with some weed and laughs. In my rage fogged mind I ended up lost in the halls of Cato's house. His house as too fucking big! Finding myself lost in the house of my friend only further worked up the frenzy in my mind and made it harder for me to get my bearings.

There was a startlingly loud thud that came from one of the rooms upstairs and I jumped. What was that? Had one of the others wondered off upstairs? I headed towards the nearest staircase hoping I would find one of my friends and they could lead me back to the group.

"Hello?" I called out once on the second floor.

I looked down the hallway I thought I had heard the noise from and discovered it empty. I hesitated, wondering if I should continue on looking for the source or head back down stairs and just try shouting until someone from the group found me. When I turned to head back another thud erupted from down the hall and I whipped my head around hoping to catch the source. What the hell was that? It sounded like a heavy object being struck against the floor. I looked behind me to make sure I was alone. My nerves were starting to work against me as my heartbeat slowly increased like a growing drumbeat. I decided to walk down the hall and investigate, each step increasing the tempo of the beat in my heart.

"A-anyone up here?" My voice cracked.

All the doors on this wing of the house were closed, which I found odd. I couldn't remember ever being up here before and so I wasn't sure what was housed on the other side of any of them. I knew Cato's bedroom was downstairs somewhere, so maybe his parents master bedroom was up here? But they were never home, his dad being a billionaire hedge fund manager was always away on business in big cities and his mom off enjoying the glamorous high society lifestyle.

_Hiss. Hisssss._

I froze as I heard the odd sound coming from the door to my left. It sounded like a running faucet, but my mind wondered, was it a snake. Did Cato have snakes in this room? Had they gotten out? That was a silly thought. The hairs on my arms stood to attention as I neared the door and pressed up against it as silently as possible, not wanting to disturb whatever was on the other side. If it was snakes I did _not_ want to encounter them. I needed to stop thinking that though because really why would Cato have snakes?

My ear was pressed against the wooden door and I strained to hear any other telling sounds. But all I heard now were intermittent hissing sounds. I drew a deep breath and then reached out to put my hand on the cold metal of the door handle. As my fingers tensed and tired to turn it open I was suddenly ripped away from the door.

"AH!" I screamed violently and kicked at my attacker helplessly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Cato raged at me as he slammed me into the opposing wall. His eyes were like a hot blue flame melting me into submission. I was completely dumfounded by his sudden appearance and rash anger. It was like watching a long dormant volcano suddenly erupt, spewing its hot molten lava and rage all over the unsuspecting landscape.

"What the fuck _are_ you doing?" I shouted back.

I struggled against his hands as they gripped my arms close to my shoulders with a bruising strength. He was shaking in fury and I couldn't understand what had made him that way.

"Did I say you could come up here? Did I say it was okay to snoop around my house?" He continued to shout as he started to pull me violently along with him down the hall.

I struggled against his vice like grip on my left forearm and finally ripped free of him as he was practically dragging me down the stairs.

"I got lost, I didn't realize that was a crime! I haven't been to your house in a long time. Jesus Christ!"

Everyone was now crowded at the foot of the stairs having come to see what the commotion was. He turned to them all, red in the face.

"It's time everyone left my house, now. This was a bad idea."

I shoved past him on the stairs and saw Marvel step forward to help me. I pushed him away from me angrily. "You're right Cato. This was an amazingly stupid idea."

Marvel looked to Cato with stormy grey eyes. "Dude, what the fuck happened? What did you do to Peeta?"

Cato's chest puffed out indignantly. "This is my house. Everyone needs to get out. I'm sorry to ruin the fun, but we haven't been together in a long time and this is just not going to work. J-just OUT!"

Glimmer hung back, not wanting to get involved while Clove watched the situation with a clinical emotion. I was ready to run to my car when Johanna stepped in front of my path.

"What happened to us? To _you_ guys?" She demanded of us. "People don't just stop being friends overnight for no reason." I could tell she was fed up with our behavior and wanted answers for why her best friends had suddenly turned on each other, but everyone remained silent, unwilling to supply the answer.

I looked around in disbelief. "Come on you guys, this is absurd, maybe if we—" I was cut off from my thought.

"NO, everyone needs to just go. No one is saying one more word about anything. The day is over. Johanna I'll see you at work tomorrow." He dismissed us and no one argued further, not even Johanna, even though her eyes told a different story.

I sped away from the house in my car as if I were speeding from the scene of a crime. I couldn't put enough distance between that house, the others, and me. My mind was murkier than floodwater and I tried to straighten out my feelings but only kept coming back to anger and disappointment. Why had I been so nosy? Why had I been so rude to Clove? What had Cato so freaked? Why did I keep waffling with my feelings for Marvel?

The myriad questions plagued the dark waters of my mind where no answers could be found. I pulled into the driveway of my home and noticed a car parked in the loop that I did not recognize. My father wasn't home and I hesitated, wondering who it was and why they were waiting at my house. As I shut my engine off and got out of the car a blazing red head approached from my front porch.

It took me a second to recognize her, now that her hair was no longer bleached blonde and now back to her original red. But the sharp facial features and green eyes were still the same.

"Estee?" I asked with surprise. "What's up?"

She tossed her hair behind her back and stood in front of me with crossed arms. "Katniss has been missing for almost two days."

I was startled by that piece of news. My already flooded mind couldn't work to piece together the new information she had just supplied to me. It stalled.

"What?"

"You heard me Peeta." She stood staring at me with accusatory eyes.

"I don't get it. Why are you here?"

"Because I've been looking around for her, afraid she went on some adderol binge and has been up partying for the past two days straight. Work hasn't seen her and she's done it before." Which was true. Katniss had been known to get a little crazy with her prescription drug, but as far as I knew it was always with her best friend Estee. She continued, "I ran into someone who said he saw you with her on the beach the night she went missing."

I gritted my teeth and swallowed the saliva that had built up in my mouth. Was she accusing me of doing something? "Yeah, I saw her. She helped me with the death of my mother. What are you getting at, Estee?" I demanded. It felt good to throw my mothers death in her face and watch it falter, but only slightly.

She tossed her hair again haughtily. "I don't know. But what I do know is that she goes missing the same time you and your friends come back into town. Now that I'm free from senior year and have had some distance from your group I see you all for what you are. Destructive. Nothing good comes from being with you guys."

I stood their motionless and just took her insults. I had fought too much today and what she was saying rung with truth in my ears. It was like looking in a mirror and having all my worst judgments thrown back in my face. I sagged dejected and lost. "I-I'm sorry…"

"Yeah, whatever. Just let me know if you hear from Katniss. I'm going to the police tomorrow to report her missing," Estee said. Her green eyes held mine for a second and I could see maybe she was questioning having been so harsh, but instead she walked back to her silver sedan and left me alone and injured.

The emotions encased inside my head tormented me like an onslaught of waves that crashed against my brain, working to short circuit it and leave me frazzled and fried. My day had started in confusion with an open window, turned towards hope at reconciliation with a damaged group of friends and then burned down in heated and hurtful words. My week started with a dead mother and fuck, just fuck. I wanted to leave. I contemplated just getting in my car and driving until I ran out of gas, but then I decided to take my mind up on another offer. The one where I had ran home and locked myself away in my room and hid under the covers.

The keys scrapped against the locks of my door as I shook hurriedly to get them in the slot to unlock it. I burst in and ran up the stairs to my room with thunderous steps, hoping that by running as fast as possible I could abandon my distraught feelings in the driveway. Instead I found myself wallowing in self-pity under my covers and fighting back tears I hadn't cried in a long time. The comforter turned out to be a bad decision as it worked as an added layer of gravity fighting to pull me down into the depths of hell. I choked down the threatening tears before anything spilled forth and clicked open my iPhone to Gale's number, once dialed I put it on speaker and waited anxiously for his voice. It rang and rang and rang with no answer. I chewed on the side of my cheek waiting for his soothing voice to answer and help make me feel better. Except an answer never came. I was left feeling abandoned and let down. Hurt and confused. Tormented. I knew I couldn't sulk in the house all evening or one of these emotions would get the best of me and I was not going to allow myself to cry. So instead I scrolled through my contacts until I found a different number. One I knew could help distract me. My cock twitched at the thought of his tanned skin and firm muscles. Yes, Finnick was the perfect solution to my problems and so I texted him.

_Hey, it's the guy you fucked in the bathroom. Wanna go for round 2?_

Then I laid my head back and waited for his reply.

**Words of encouragement and reviews are greatly appreciated. They help motivate me and let me know this story is not a waste. **

**Xoxo**

**~ 07**


	4. Breaking Down

Breaking Down

The sun had passed beyond the rim of the Pacific Ocean in a dazzling array of soft hued pinks, purples and oranges. As the light faded across Panem Beach the moon rose to take its rightful place in the dark sky. It was a few days away from being a full moon, but held a large and foreboding size in the sky. It radiated a halo around it, almost like a red satin draping surrounded the moon and obscured its luminosity at the edges. It made its radiance fuzzy and scarlet as if the moon were bleeding into the night sky with the lack of gravity.

Estee was driving to her small rental house under the bloody moon. Since Katniss had disappeared on her two days before she found it was quite dull to live on her own. She never knew how much she relied on Katniss for entertainment and company until she didn't have her around. She felt bad for having been so rough on Peeta like that, he didn't seem to have been in the best state to begin with, but she was riled up over Katniss and let fly with the harsh truth.

She turned down a side road that was a short cut to her house on 12th and was bathed in darkness. There were no streetlights here nor any occupied homes. It was a forgotten street with overgrown wilderness and one decrepit shack. If she had been walking she would have stayed far from it, but in her car she felt secure enough to barrel on through.

About halfway down the street she was fiddling with her cell phone when suddenly a large black shape darted out into the street before her. She looked up just in time to see it and slam on her brakes with a shrill cry. But it was too late, she couldn't stop the car from making contact with the figure and it impacted with a thud before flying a few feet from the car to land in a motionless heap on the concrete.

Estee sat frozen in her car panting rapidly on the verge of a breakdown.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

She got out of the temperature-controlled car and into the cool night air. She hesitantly stepped forward until she was at the nose of her car and studied the huddled mass on the road before her. Her cars headlights illuminated it, but she wasn't able to make out what the thing was. There was too much blood. She groaned and leaned against the hood of her car for support. What had she done? She pulled together her resolve and inched towards the black puddle of blood.

"Oh thank god," She sighed in relief as she saw it was a stray dog and not a human.

Only then Estee felt racked with guilt again as she realized she had just hit an innocent animal. She crouched down to inspect the dog; it looked like a chocolate Labrador. She heard a crunch of gravel behind her like a shoe had scrapped across the cement. She whipped her head around to look at her car, but saw nothing. The light of her headlights blinded her. She held up her hands to shield her face, but still saw nothing. She turned back to look at the dog and reached out slowly to touch it.

Her fingers felt the cool, thick liquid of its blood and the coarse short hairs of its fur. But that's when she noticed something was wrong. This dog was cold and stiff, not warm and relaxed. It had been long dead.

"What?" She leaned in closer to inspect it.

How had it jumped in front of her car if it was dead? That's when she saw them. Her eye's widened in horror and her hand recoiled as if scalded. The poor animal was littered with deep cuts and stab wounds. Someone had attacked this dog, probably with a knife.

Estee jumped to her feet and ran to her car in panic slamming the door closed behind her and shaking slightly. She looked for her phone and couldn't find it. She must have dropped it below the seat when she hit the dog. She reached to turn on the ceiling light of her car when something caught her eye in the rearview mirror, a movement and a glint of white.

"Fuck!" She shrieked in fear and dove to flatten herself as a large knife swung down from the back seat and sank into the dashboard of her car. She twisted to look up at the figure that had attacked her and her jaw locked at the sight of the ghostly white porcelain doll mask that stared back. The jagged knife stuck in the rubber of her dashboard and the person twisted his grip to free it. She kicked her car door open and struggled out as the figure dove forward and gripped her by her fiery hair.

"Help—ah!" Estee cried as he pulled her by the roots back into the car. She kicked her legs in futility as the strong attacker pulled her back, closer and closer to him and the knife that wouldn't be stuck for long. He struggled awkwardly to tear the knife out of its place and in that moment she was able to rip free, her scalp stinging harshly as hairs ripped out at the root. The masked monster slashed at her and cut her across the back with the knife as she ran around her open car door.

"HELP! SOMEONE!"

The black night and the empty street absorbed her cries into nothingness. It was like the night was against her too, silencing her cries and blinding her with its darkness. She ran away from her car as fast as her flats could carry her when she heard the car door shut and her engine rev. Suddenly headlights were chasing her down the small street. Her mind reeled with panic and questions of who was trying to kill her and why. The person wanted her dead, not just her money or car.

"Oh god! PLEASE!" She screamed hoarsely.

Blood trickled down her back from the cut and throbbed with her climbing heart rate. A loud crunch rang out in the silence as her car ran over the dog in the road. Her silver sedan raced closer and closer towards her until at the last-minute she dove to the right, but was clipped in the thigh by her own car, throwing her off the cement and into the wild overgrown side brush. Estee lay there clutching her leg in pain, shaken and terrified as the car halted to a stop. She tried to stand, but was unable to put any weight on her injured leg and she collapsed back into the thicket of weeds helplessly. Her right leg throbbed in a crushing pain and she feared something was broken. She listened in fright as the car door opened and closed. She struggled to pull herself further into the yard and away from her attacker. She gripped thick weeds with her hands and pulled, straining all her muscles and clenching her back tightly as she was dragged forward. The cut on her back smarted and reminded her of the knife that awaited her. She needed to escape. The crack of the dry brushwood alerted Estee to the man's presence behind her. She groped in the dark for something, anything that she could use as a weapon. She fought against her brain, which only worked to produce adrenaline and mind numbing terror instead of any useful ideas.

Just as her hands clasped on a thick stick the attacker had his hand on her back and she lurched herself around aiming the stick at the soft flesh of the neck.

"Ah!" She cried in pain as the man with far faster reflexes caught her wrist and twisted it until the stick dropped from her wrist.

"Please, please, don't hurt me!" She sobbed at the emotionless porcelain doll masked bared down on her.

She beat against him with her free hand and using her uninjured leg kicked with all her remaining strength only to stop abruptly when she felt the cold sharp steel of the knife penetrate her breast, slipping between her ribcage and tearing the flesh and muscles like tissue paper. All her fight left her as the jagged edge of the knife sliced her open in flaring pain. She had seen horror movies before and been desensitized to the image of someone being stabbed so she never thought much of what it would feel like, but it was a flaring and awful pain, her nerves screamed in torment. Psychologically it sickened her to think that this knife was raping her body with its unwanted penetration. It was the ultimate violence.

A choked exclamation of shock trembled from Estee's lips as she stared into the dark black eye holes of the doll mask. She could see nothing, but she could feel the rage and hate. They radiated from the mask in waves of emotions like heat seen rising from roads in the distance.

"Why…?"

The monster pushed down on the knife harder and the blade cut deeper as she was pushed back in the dirt and bushes. Dark red blood poured around the edges of where the knife sank into her chest. Her eyes meandered up from the mask to the night sky until they settled upon the blood-red moon. It was the last image she saw before the killer ripped the blade from her chest in a swift and smooth motion, drawing her chest up with it slightly, before plunging it down repeatedly. Blood sprayed into the night air and painted the white canvas of the porcelain mask as the black hooded person stabbed her over and over and over. She was dead by the third time the blade pierced her skin, but the monster continued until her chest looked like a red steak beaten raw and flayed with a meat tenderizer.

Silence reigned supreme again as the night continued on with itself, acting like nothing had happened and concealing from the light of day the life that was stolen tonight. The blood seemed to fade from the moon at the offering it had just been given.

* * *

The drive to downtown Panem Beach was about ten minutes. It really only took ten minutes to get anywhere around town except during peak tourist times, like Memorial Day weekend and the Fourth of July. With out the congestion of cars and the lack of stop lights it was a speedy trip around town and especially to Finnick's small house between the downtown area and the beach. He had a small two-bedroom house that was unexpectedly charming compared to the typical house of those who lived closer to town. He must have come from a family with moderate wealth to live on his own with a bartender's salary.

I pulled my jeep into his driveway and sent him a text that I was here before climbing out and heading to the front door. When I reached the front steps to his house Finnick appeared and opened the front door in while I pulled the screen door out to step in. He was as fine-looking as ever. He wore nothing except some basketball shorts and I could tell he didn't have any underwear on underneath by the way his penis was brazenly defined against the nylon material. The sight of it caused my blood to pump a little faster as I remember the thickness of his member and the way he worked it inside me the last time.

"Welcome," Finnick grinned and winked at me when he caught me staring at his crotch. His sea green eyes weakened my resolve and I knew I had to have him, now. What had I been thinking? We could have fucked this whole time. I should have texted him the very next day after meeting him. All the emotions and questions that had plagued my mind since the day started evaporated at the sight of this Olympian.

"Thanks." I smirked back at him and observed the door to his bedroom was open and the soft sounds of music could be heard tinkling out. I pressed my hands against his smooth and tanned chest, guiding him back to the bedroom. I wasn't going to wait. I needed the release now.

I felt his pectoral muscles flexing under my fingers and I tweaked a brown nipple playfully as we entered his bedroom. I identified the light music that was playing from the laptop on his cluttered desk was Arcade Fire.

"Straight to the point, I like that." He said.

"Well I figured since you already ate out my ass we could skip the formalities," I said, wetting my lips with a slow deliberate slide of the tongue. His eyes followed its movement until I pushed him backwards.

A flicker of alarm passed through his other wise calm and collected face as he fell back on the bed. But then once sprawled on the bed his striking eyes darkened with lust. He liked my forcefulness. He seemed to draw it out of me. The way he had roughly handled me in the bathroom that night in District 1 had left me craving for more. He propped himself up on his elbows and his chest was fully flexed and exposed for my viewing pleasure. His six-pack was fully flexed and rigid below his suck-able brown nipples centered perfectly on two well-defined pecs. My mouth watered at the sight as my erection rapidly inflated. The blood was rushing south so fast I felt myself getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen to the brain and I swayed before him.

"Take your time looking, we don't have to hurry tonight." He said like silk. His words draped around my body and spurred me on. Finnick hooked his thumb in the waistline of his shorts and inched it down ever so slightly to reveal the groove of his hipbone that curved towards his swelling groin.

"Oh, I intend to." I husked.

I pulled my t-shirt up over my head and exposed my much whiter skin and lightly defined torso to Finnick. I felt the thrumming vibration of my phone in the pocket of my linen shorts and sighed at the interruption. I pulled out my phone just enough to see who was bothering me and felt a slight pang in my chest upon seeing the name. It was Gale, but he was too late. I had moved on to another guy already and so I silenced his call. Then I tossed my shirt to the floor as I undid my shorts and let them slide to the ground before I stepped out of them and slinked over to Finnick at the edge of the bed like a wildcat approached its prey, ready to pounce at a moments notice. I was in a pair of black 2xist boxer briefs that really accentuated the roundness of my ass and as I climbed over top of Finnick his hands quickly found their way to grope my firm butt cheeks.

I purred at the attention as he massaged my behind and slipped a finger under the waistband to ghost along my crack. I held my head above Finnick's and teased him by brushing my nose against his, then leaning down and lightly connecting our lips before brushing my face against his strong cheekbone. Our stubble joined to create a hot friction that drove him to pull his hands from my ass and hold my face between both his hands as he pushed our lips together with purpose. He inserted his tongue into my mouth with out hesitation and I groaned at the force with which he took control of the situation. I sucked on his warm tongue like a lollipop and then held the tip of it between my teeth lightly. I wanted to be the one with the power this time, but I could tell he would fight me for the control.

I ground my now rock hard penis against his throbbing erection and we both broke apart from the kiss to moan at the contact. The heat that pooled between our two groins was explosively hot and threatened to burn away the remnants of our clothes until we were fully bared to each other and writhing in pleasure.

While I ground down with increasing pressure on Finnick's clothed manhood I moved my lips to his neck to lick and suckle his rough stubble laden skin.

"No visible marks above the neck," He warned.

I smiled against his copper skin as my right hand skimmed across his bicep to work between our two sweat-moistened chests and down to the waistband of his nylon shorts. As I slid my hand under the glossy material to grip his thick member I bit down on his neck. He cried out in pleasure as he bucked into my hand. I quickly soothed the spot with wet kisses and worked my way up to his left ear. He was a panting and shaking mess as I worked his penis in my hand. He was gripping the sheets in tight fists as my teeth nipped at his earlobe and then licked a swipe from bottom to top along the edge of his ear before I blew air across it. I felt his skin ripple with a wave of goose pimples that erupted up and down his body.

"Fuck!" He shouted as he sat up suddenly forcing me up into a sitting position on his lap. Our eyes connected and the lust and electricity that sparked between the two of them drove us both over the edge.

Finnick kicked off his shorts before ripping my underwear off my body in a hurried motion. It got twisted around my ankles as I tried to help pull them off before they were yanked over my feet and thrown to the floor.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit for a week with out thinking my name," He rumbled.

Then he licked my bottom lip and sucked it into his hot velvet mouth. I groaned in bliss and excitement as we worked out tongues against each other. I had worked him to the edge of the cliff before throwing him over and causing him to lose all control.

He enclosed his arms around my body continuing to deepen the sloppy and fierce kiss while his thighs strained and I wrapped my legs around his torso to hold on as he stood up and carried me over to his desk. He sat me on the edge of the table while he dug with one hand blindly in the drawer for what I assumed were protection and lube. I heard the crinkle of the foil wrapper and then one of his hands was between our bodies as he sheathed his fat cock and slicked it with lube.

Suddenly a wet and cold finger breached my whole and I threw my head back to moan wantonly. The air felt charged and eroticized with the dirty noises that inhabited it. The slick suctioning sound from his now two fingers stretching and pressing into my ass while pants and moans ripped from both our mouths. I raked both my hands up his tight back and into his short golden blonde hair as he bit my shoulder and added a third finger crooking it to hit my prostate. My legs shook as I cried out in pleasure and he ate the sounds like they were his nourishment, closing his open mouth upon mine.

I felt his fingers slip from my stretched hole and align his cock at my entrance. My breath fluttered against Finnick's soft lips as he forcefully lifted me from the desk and slammed me into the wall of his bedroom with a thud as he thrust his rigid member deep into me. The strength of Finnick, the sudden change in position and forceful entrance of his manhood was like finding god, a god of sex and endless pleasure.

"OH god, yes!" I cried against Finnick's cheek as he grunted and pushed into my needy hole. With my back pressed firm against the wall he moved his hands down to cup and hold me from my ass cheeks. He spread them further apart as he beat into me with wild and powerful thrusts, plunging his meaty and rock hard member deeper and deeper into my body. I bounced against him and felt my back, growing slick with sweat, begin to slid up and down against the wall in time with his pumping hips.

My head rolled to and fro of it own accord as my hands gripped and pulled Finnick's taut butt against me. I could feel the power of the muscles as they clenched and pumped with his body up and into me, filling me and relieving my body of the terrible tension that had built up in the last few days. With each thrust he drove away my pain and scattered the abusing thoughts. I knew it wouldn't last. This was just a rash in the moment thing, an impermanent solution to my problems, but god be damned I was going to enjoy it.

"Oh, oh, oh!" I grunted.

My aching cock, trapped between my body and Finnick's, rubbed in hot friction between the grooves of his tensed abs. I clenched my ass and worked to press back against his powerful movements. My vision was beginning to blur as I felt the tingle in my stomach and the tightening in my balls. Finnick hoisted me up to a higher position as I had slipped down the wall and suddenly every piercing pump into my body by his divine dick hit my prostate and I couldn't hold back. With out having ever touched my erection I felt the hot seed in my balls rush forward and spurt all over Finnick's and my chest. My vision darkened and a guttural cry spewed from deep in my lungs as my arms went numb. Finnick pounded into me with reckless abandon as he bit down on my shoulder-blade before pulling me away from the wall and tossing me on the bed. Then he ripped off the condom, stroked himself three more times with a clenched fist before a strangled cry ripped from his lips and he blasted his cum all over my body on the bed.

Finnick then fell atop me on the bed and cum smeared between our two chests before he rolled from on top of my sweaty body. I stretched out fatigued and sexually satisfied each breath that filled my lungs smelled strongly of sex. It was a manly stench that only the sexual encounter between two men could create and it continued to keep me in my intoxicated state even as my libido faded and my erection turned flaccid. The reason for my fleeing here was banished far from my mind and I kissed Finnick's shoulder gratefully, watching his chest rise and fall in exhaustion.

After a few minutes of just lying there wordlessly I wondered why his name had sounded so familiar to me at the club. I turned to study his attractive face and slowly placed the reason.

"Did you ever go to Capitol Prep?" I asked and the deep gravel of my voice surprised me.

Finnick rolled his head to look at me with a quirked eyebrow. He seemed suspicious of my knowledge. "Yes, actually. For a brief period maybe a little over two years ago, but shit happened and I transferred to PB High."

"I think I remember you! You came during my junior year. We flirted in Spanish and traded digits. I thought we hit it off, but then you transferred." I said.

Finnick sat up as he studied me closely. His forehead creased as he tried to work out who I was and I could see a slight panic edging into the corners of his eyes. "You know you never told me your name…"

I thought back and realized I never did. When we had hooked up in the bathroom of District 1 I had wanted to keep some anonymity and then coming over here I just jumped right into bed (and against the wall) with out ever sharing my name.

"Ha, I guess I didn't. I'm Peeta," I shared.

Finnick blanched. He jumped from the bed and hurriedly pulled on his shorts while exclaiming to himself. "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

I dragged myself up from lying on his bed and watched his frantic motions. Suddenly I felt exposed and vulnerable even though we had just fucked.

"Finnick, what's the problem?" I squeaked.

He turned stormy eyes on me and threw my clothes back to me. "You look different. Did you dye your hair?" He demanded, but didn't let me answer. "You need to get dressed and leave. Don't tell anyone you were here? Okay?" He asked heatedly.

"What?" I asked flabbergasted.

"You just need to go. Please go and promise not to talk about this to anyone. Do not try to see me again. This shouldn't have happened."

Confused and hurt by the abrupt change in Finnick I dressed myself. I had not expected this behavior from Finnick. He seemed like the type to hook up often, why was he treating me like this and why was I not allowed to tell anyone? I thought maybe we could have made this into something good for the summer. I did remember him from high school and how he had been one of the first guys to show interest in me. I had been excited by the prospects this hot senior transfer offered to me and then suddenly he was gone and I was left disappointed again.

I was getting agitated as he stood by the door tapping his foot impatiently and watching me with shifty eyes. I pulled my shirt on and felt cum still on my chest stick to the cotton like glue, but I didn't care at the moment. Not with Finnick's icy star watching my every movement with agitation. I couldn't find my other sandal and I heard Finnick sigh exasperatedly as I bent to check under his bed. I found it and held it up to him with a glare before putting it on.

"There, I'm leaving. Happy?" I asked petulantly.

"Very."

He tried to guide me to the door and I slapped his hand away from me. I wasn't a child and I was definitely not some hookup gone wrong that wouldn't leave and needed a forceful hand.

I flung the screen open with a screech and made my way to the car with out looking back, although I thought I heard Finnick murmur he was sorry, but it was too late. My mood was ruined. All the thoughts and emotions I had run from came crashing back and I internally berated myself for even texting him. I should have just waited for Gale to return my call. Now I was left feeling dejected and filled with questions to which I could not fathom an answer. I turned the ignition of my car with pent up frustration and backed out of the driveway with screeching tires. I hoped I disturbed his neighbors as I sped away from his home.

* * *

Wednesday morning passed uneventfully as I stewed in my depression and debated whether I should call Gale back or not. I didn't want to have to explain everything that had happened to him because I knew there would be uncomfortable questions that I couldn't answer. I wanted to get high and forget about my problems, but Marvel had my weed and I really wasn't in the mood to deal with anymore boy troubles. Finnick and Cato's behavior were enough yesterday and my mind was already in a free fall. How many other relationships could I fuck up in a day?

When Clove texted me after lunchtime and I was reminded of my rash and juvenile behavior towards her too, another fuck up on my part. She wanted to talk to me. I wondered what she had to say and if I should have been the one to reach out to her first with an apology? But it was too late for that now as I texted her back that I'd meet her at Glimmer's. Then I got up, realized I had yet to change or shower and groaned. It was too late to shower now so I threw on clean shirt and some skinny yellow corduroy shorts, sprayed some Diesel cologne on to mask any smells and ran out to my car.

I pulled up to Glimmer's home five minutes later and parked next to Clove's Fiat 500 in the driveway that circled a reflecting pond with two boulders placed 'artfully' in the center. Her two fathers' weren't ostentatious at all. The house was two stories, except for the grand foyer entrance with three-story open glass windows. The house was mid-century modern with stone and cement walls and in the back large floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the bluffs and ocean.

Clove could be seen through the glass walking down the stairs towards the front door. She was in some of Glim's pink multi-plaid sophie shorts and a white tank. Her nipples were slightly visible through the material since she wasn't wearing a bra. She opened the door and ushered me in with out a word before heading back up the stairs. I kicked off my sandals and followed her to Glim's room. When I entered it was like I was brought back to senior year all over again. The room hadn't changed a bit since she had been gone, which surprised me. I assumed her fathers would have re-purposed the room after she left for college, never ones to miss out on an opportunity to flex their styling skills.

Instead Glimmer still had her king sized black wood four-poster bed and white lace canopy draped around it. Her lavender walls were littered with posters of her 'favorite' actors like Channing Tatum, Zac Efron, and Taylor Lautner, all usually in states of undress and giving the feel of some teen girls fantasy celebrity strip club. There was an overdesigned pull out bed set up in the corner of the room almost blocking access to the giant walk-in-closet, but not quite. Glimmer would never allow hospitality to trump access to her clothes.

"Where's Glimmer?" I asked as I looked around and noticed she was missing.

"She had to run into town to get some things for a fashion project or something. I wasn't really listening. You know how she can get," She explained.

I took a seat at the edge of Glim's bed and sank about a foot into the memory foam topper she had. Clove chuckled as I tried to extricate myself from the bed before deciding that standing was the best option. I smiled meekly at Clove and she chewed her bottom lip.

"Look I'm sorry—"

"Peeta I wanted—"

We both spoke at the same time and then stalled upon hearing the other. She motioned for me to go first and so I spat it out.

"I'm sorry for accusing you of being dishonest. What you're doing here is your business. I'm just kind of an asshole anymore…" I apologized.

"We're all kind of assholes. Don't worry about it. But…" She bent and pulled something from her Prada bag. "This is your business. It may be everyone's but I'm not sure yet. I'm trying to figure out who did this and why. This why I'm back."

She then handed me a small postcard. There was a large green field, maybe of corn I wasn't sure, but it was nondescript and generic. I noticed Clove chewing her lip again and watching for my reaction closely. I wondered what this was as I turned the card over and read the two short lines written on it: _The deceitful seeds you have sown will soon be reaped. Wrongs will be righted._

My blood ran cold through my veins and a shiver passed over my body like a ghost was present in the room. And maybe one was. What the hell was this referring too? It couldn't possibly be about graduation night. No one knew about that, except…

"You think one of us sent this?" I demanded. "What is it? Where did it come from? Wrongs will be righted?"

My head was spinning from a lack of oxygen as I threw questions at her with out ever taking a breath. Clove came to my side to point at the handwriting.

"I don't know what any of it means. But look, it's written in blood. Last Saturday I came home to find my house was broken into, but nothing was taken. Just this postcard was left taped to the fridge. It has to be about graduation night. I don't know what other deceits I've sown recently…"

I sat back down on Glimmer's bed and this time didn't fight it as I sank a foot into the spongy foam. I needed the comfort of the soft and enveloping material like a child needs its safety blanket. I analyzed the card again and saw how what had at first looked like red ink was in fact dried blood. I looked back at her and shook my head.

"No. None of us would send this and no one could possibly know. This is just some joke." I reasoned.

Clove took the card from my hand and turned it over pointing at the image.

"It's some type of field. Of corn or wheat or whatever. Get it, Fields?"

She had a point that I could not deny. My mind scrambled to find an excuse, but it was like trying to scale the side of a skyscraper and finding nowhere to gain purchase against the smooth metal and glass. It was an exercise in futility.

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" I asked.

After putting the card away in the pocket of her purse she sat next to me and sank into her own pit in the foam. "No, I've been trying to figure it out on my own. I didn't know whom of us I could trust. That's why I was so vague yesterday. But I figured I had to let someone in on this and after Cato's actions yesterday I'm worried about him. I talked to Johanna and she's been worried about Cato's health for some time. Apparently he's been prone to frequent and wild mood swings and sometimes he forgets we all aren't friends anymore. It's really weird and Johanna had hoped bringing us all together would have helped him some."

"He's always been prone to violence, you remember high school, but near the end there…" I trailed off. What she was saying made sense. Things had gotten odd, to say the least, with Cato's behavior by the end of senior year, which may have explained how things got so far out of hand graduation night. But we all were guilty that night. I just couldn't believe he would be the one to do this. It didn't make sense.

"I know you and Cato ended on… well the worst terms, but I don't see why he would target just you. We all are to blame for it." I said.

She seemed prone to agree even if her mind told her otherwise. "I know. That's why I can't go to him about this. He's always had, well, a soft spot for you. I think you may be the best person to confront him."

My jaw practically broke off from the hinges. Was she insane? He did not have any type of soft spot for me if yesterday was any indication. "What? Where you not there yesterday? I'm the last person he wants to see right now. I don't even know what I did so I can't even apologize. Not that I would."

"You two are so stubborn. I don't know what happened either, but he's always had his secrets and you just may have gotten too close to one. There's something about that wing of the house that disturbs him, even when we dated. But I know he'd never hate you. You may not know this but it was he and Marvel that were instrumental in making sure you never got a hard time for being gay. When you came out in 8th grade they made sure everyone knew that bullying you meant dealing with them."

If my jaw hadn't already fallen off it would have done so then. I had no idea this happened. Marvel never told me. Cato sure didn't. But it really helped explain why coming out had been such an easy experience for me and yet my brother Ryen faced such a difficult time with his friends when word reached his grade. He didn't have the two most popular guys in school covering his back from the bullies and hateful words. I wasn't sure what I was feeling at the moment as they all mixed inside me in some crazy emotional cocktail. Was I glad they did it? Pissed at them for thinking I needed protecting? I wasn't some damsel in distress. Yet they had granted me the ability to have a safe high school environment free of harassment and allowed me to grow confident in myself. I was not damaged by my sexuality like some kids could be when growing up gay in a hostile small town.

"I—I don't know what to say." I stammered honestly.

"Just think about it. If anyone can maybe get the truth from him it will be you. I just want to know I'm—we're all safe."

She touched my shoulder gently and her face was painted in sympathy. I must have looked like some poor deer caught in the headlights of an approaching truck. I sure as fuck did not expect any of this when Clove had asked me to come over. I sat up and struggled with the fluffy comforter and deep impression my butt had made in the memory foam to stand. I faced Clove with an overwhelmed expression etched deep into my creased brow.

"I'll think about it. I gotta go."

Then I left and she did nothing to stop me.

My car drove of its own accord to a nearby 7/11 where I picked up a six-pack of Rolling Rock. Then I returned back to my empty home. My dad was at the restaurant as usual. Even though he had forced me home to 'deal' with my mother's death and find closure at her funeral he did very little of actually trying to help me. Not that I needed it. She wasn't a part of my life anymore and that was a good thing. But I was insulted that he thought he could change my whole summer with a guilt trip and then abandon me at home with nothing to do and no one to keep me busy. For being so empty my house sure was getting crowded with all my troubles.

By my third beer I had a good buzz going and a mess made in the kitchen as I had ransacked the pantry and fridge for food that would satisfy me. I was in one of my moods where nothing seemed good and so I tried any and everything looking for what would quench my hunger. While on my search I drank my beer and with a mostly empty stomach the alcohol quickly affected me.

While sitting on a stool at the counter, bags of chips and cookies and spilt salsa strewn before me, I pulled out my phone. I scrolled to the text thread with Finnick and decided to text him. I wanted to know what had happened. I deserved to know. I was pissed and drunk and horny and depressed and my life was a dysfunctional mess. Someone was threatening Clove. It may be Cato. Johanna was worried about his health. He attacked me for no apparent reason. My pill popping abusive mother had overdosed. My brother got the short end of the stick when I came out. I fucked the pain away with strangers throughout my freshmen year of college. I had an amazing roommate that wanted nothing but the best for me, yet I always kept him at a distance, never letting him get too close to discovering my faults that had swallowed me whole.

_F'in nick, wat did I do wrog? I'm surry._

Fuck, I misspelled the shit out of that text and could only blame the messed up name on autocorrect. He was going to know I'm a drunken mess. I slid the phone from my presence along the tiled counter where it came to a stop in the spilt salsa. I groaned, chugged the remnants of my beer and hit my head against the tile.

I cracked open the fourth beer and decided to try and make this one last the hour. It was only nine o'clock and I didn't want to have to run out for more beers. But by 9:38pm I had finished the beer and had a strong case of the hiccups. I held up the beer and tried tossing it like it was a basketball into the recycling bin. I missed and it shattered against the floor much like my life had shattered. I was fragmented and broken.

"Peeta Josh Mellark!" A loud and harsh voice rang out from behind me.

I jumped and fell backwards off the stool on my ass to the hard cold floor. Finnick had been right I definitely thought of him as my sore ass impacted the floor. My head spun like the tilt-o-whirl at the Capitol pier and I thought I saw too stern figures of my father glaring down at me on the floor. But I knew there was only one. One very pissed dad. Shit.

"What is this mess? And how did you get this beer? Never mind that, that doesn't surprise me. Get up!" He shouted at me and my ears rang with his harsh words as he tugged me forcefully to my feet.

"Ow." I complained like an impetuous child.

"Look at this mess you made! You are going to clean that up now."

He pushed me towards the food-slopped counter I had made and I dug my feet in as I flung his hand from my back.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed.

He looked at me in complete bewilderment. Like he had no idea who I was. I definitely wasn't his child. But I just sneered at him. I might as well not have been the way he was never around to raise me or save me from his evil wife.

"I—son, what happened to you? I've never seen this side of you. Yes, you always ran with a wild crowd, but you used to be so carefree and happy. Genuinely happy. You still managed to get good grades and graduated Magna Cum Laude! Now you're almost failing out of Arizona State and you don't talk to your friends, you're mean and hostile to everyone; you wont let anyone in or help you. I just don't know what to do for you anymore." He said in utter exasperation. Like he had just run a marathon. I was the marathon, but I would never let him get to the finish line.

"That's just it. You've never known what to do for me. So don't start trying now." I growled.

Then I ran from the room as he hollered for me to come back. But I was out the front door and slamming it closed behind me, cutting off the echo of his furious voice as I crashed into the side of my jeep. I jumped in the drivers seat, turned the ignition and tore out of my driveway spraying gravel and dirt behind me in jarring chunks. I thought I saw my father rush out onto the road behind me with his phone to his ear. He was probably trying to call me, but he wouldn't reach me as I had left my cell on the counter in a pile of salsa.

Before I knew it I was at a local bar downtown. It was a sleazy place and smelled heavily of smoke. But it was a hot spot for a more local crowd and was always busy on any given night. I ordered a vodka tonic from the burly bartender with a brash voice. He rolled his eyes at me and didn't even ask for an ID as he mixed the drink and handed it to me. I opened a tab and then downed the drink in seconds before ordering a second.

With a fresh drink in my hand I swiveled around on the barstool and checked out the crowd. It was an eclectic mix of surfer types, hipsters, biker guys, and other locals from the downtown area. I was checking out one guy in a navy plaid shirt with a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. He was masculine and strong looking, just my type. I wondered what his fucking style was; probably dominant and slightly kinky.

The night wore on and the bar continued to get more crowded the drunker I got. I was going to drink until I couldn't feel, until I couldn't think or remember my own name. I didn't want to be me anymore. My life was too hard and too fucking depressing. Everything my dad had said was true. I had changed for the worse and I was lost in the dark woods of my mind with no way out. There was no light to guide me home, back to the happier and healthier person I once was.

My bleary eyes honed in with surprising precision on a familiar crop of golden blonde hair. What were the chances he was here? My mind couldn't quite grasp such lofty concepts. It really didn't think much on its own at the moment, period. Instead it just watched and processed what my heavy-lidded eyes saw and they were currently focused on Finnick. He was talking with some girl who looked like she just came from the beach in her beach slip on over her bikini, the straps of her bikini top visible and her dirty-blonde hair towel dried.

I watch in disbelief as the girl flirted shamelessly with Finnick and he seemed to enjoy it. I could see how he tried to cover up the mark I left on his skin and I felt a slight sense of triumph. At least I had marked him and he would have that reminder of me for the next week. Before I knew what was happening he had laid a tantalizing kiss on her lips, rendering the tramp speechless, and put his arm around her waist to guide her out of the bar. My insides boiled with rage and jealousy. That fucker just had his dick in my ass last night and now he was going to go stick it in some skanky pussy. He kicked me out of his house after learning my name acting like he was scared of something and then he's out the next night picking up some new one-night stand?

I got up and decided, fuck it, I'm going to have sex too. I stumbled into someone and yelled at my feet internally to learn to walk. They felt unsteady like jiggling jell-o. After slapping my knees I looked up and located my target. The tides parted and I swam to him and his masculine aura. The tattooed man had just ordered another beer and turned from the bar and right into me.

"Watch yourself." He said.

"I can't. Too busy watching you." I boldly stated with only a slight slur.

"The fuck did you just say?" He asked as he pushed me and my top half wobbled unsteadily as my feet stayed planted to the ground. I must have looked like some awkward human bobble doll.

"I think you're sexy." I said as I bounced back towards him. Somewhere inside my head I knew I shouldn't have. I knew not to hit on guys if I wasn't sure they were gay and especially not in some breeder bar like this. But I was too fucked up to care or maybe I wanted to push the envelope, to burn those stupid societal expectations. Either way he heard me and understood I was trying to hit on him and his face recoiled in disgust.

"Get lost, faggot. Before I make you regret coming in here." He then shoved past me.

The rage that had been boiling in the pit of my stomach, all those awful and complicated emotions that I had compartmentalized in my mind, all the bad memories of the past few days and the troubling news from Clove came crashing back and hit me like a tidal wave. It propelled me forward and into his back.

"What did I say, queer boy?" He yelled as he turned around and before he could even get a look at me the balled fist of my right hand slammed into the smooth flesh of his cheek and solid bone of his jaw with a jarring impact that sent a painful reverberation back up my arm like a shotgun.

"Fucking bigot!" I shouted as I hit him in the face and he careened from my unexpected punch.

Before I could get in another hit he had tackled me from around my waist and we flew to the floor in a tangle of limbs and violent curses. My head slammed against the wood floor with the heavy weight of the man on top of me and my bleary eyes threatened to blacken out. It felt like the back of my head had turned to a soft fruit and a man with a sledgehammer just wailed into the back of it. I wondered for a moment if the back of my head had burst open. I waited for the sure impact of his fist against my head or body, but it never came as I heard more yelling, but my disoriented brain couldn't quite work out what was happening. Only that the heavy man was lifted from me and then my sight came back to me and Marvel was pulling me up and leaning me on his shoulder as he carried me out. The security guard was escorting the other guy out and I smirked at the sight of his already bruising cheek.

I swayed my head to Marvel and grinned. "Look at what faggot did." I giggled as he shook his head and guided me to his electric blue sports car.

"Get in Peeta, before that dumbass comes after you again."

Most of the car ride was a blur as I slipped in and out of consciousness from the head injury and the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed. I think I heard him call someone to say he found me. Then I vividly remembered at one point yelling for him to stop the car and throwing open the door to lean out and vomit. But the next thing I knew he had me nestled in his comfortable silk sheets and he was feeding me water from a bottle like a baby.

"What the hell were you doing?" He asked with frustration. "Your dad called me said you were drunk and had driven off somewhere. I've been looking all night for you."

I chocked on some of the water and he pulled the bottle away. He dabbed the edge of his t-shirt under my chin where some water had trickled down. I giggled.

"I'm your baby."

"Yes, a bad baby." He sighed, but smiled lightly.

"Finnick jerk. He say I mistake. So I find better jerk. But then he was just a jerk too." I mumbled incoherently.

"Huh?" He cocked his head. "Peeta?"

But I pushed him away and snuggled his blanket tight to my body as the woozy fog that was swirling around in my brain dragged me under and consciousness deserted me.

**Reviews (or PM's) would make me oh so happy and I would love to know what you are thinking about everything and anything!**


	5. Somewhere To Begin

**Hello all! I am back! I'm sorry for the long gap, but life just sort of gets in the way sometimes! I hope you are all still with me!**

**Okay now that I've replied to all of you, go read, and enjoy. It's one of my favorite chapters so far.**

Somewhere to Begin

It felt like a construction worker with a jackhammer was pounding away against the inside of my skull relentlessly. My ears rung and everything ached beyond belief. The first sound I made upon waking up was an incomprehensible groan that was actually too loud for my ears. My hand flailed about in the sheets until it found the water bottle it was looking for, which I proceeded to chug and then rolled over onto my stomach and fell promptly back asleep. I was not ready to face the day and my body's wrath.

I woke up a few hours later or maybe only one, who knew? I sure didn't. But I felt marginally better. The construction worker must have finished his work for the day and moved on, which I was extremely grateful for, although I still had a dull aching in my brain. My legs felt sore, like I had been standing on them all night, and my right hand felt exceptionally tender. That's when I remembered what happened, not all the details, but I distinctly remembered my fist connecting with another man's jaw and then being tackled to the floor.

My eyes blinked open to the harsh sunlight streaming through the cracked blinds. I shook my head in disorientation as I came to realize I was not actually in my bed or home. I scanned the room for a clue of where I was and they soon came to rest on the framed photo next to the bed. It was one of my favorites: a photo of Marvel and I posing on the red carpet for Prom like we were celebrities. The theme that year had been Hollywood and we had a red carpet entrance to the dance with hired photographers to be the paparazzi snapping photos as we entered. Marvel had on some dark shades and was holding me protectively like we were a hot celebrity couple trying to make our way through the crazed paparazzi. I smiled fondly at the warm memory triggered by the photograph.

I strained on my weak and aching arms to push myself into an upright position, which caused my right hand to sting with a searing pain. I hissed and examined it. There was bruising along all four of my fingers around the knuckles. I tried flexing each finger and could do it, so nothing was broken, but that didn't mean it didn't sting like fuck. I used my other hand to dig through my pocket for my phone and realized it was probably still face down in the salsa on the counter at home. I groaned in defeat.

My head snapped up when I heard the door creak open. I was presented with the image of a freshly cleaned Marvel in a pair of sweat shorts and holding a tray of food. His dark brown hair looked black as it lay damp and disheveled on his head. His chest was bared to me and had a few stray drops of water, which must have fallen from his hair, glistening from the sunlight that bore its way into the room. His lithe athletic body was perfectly toned with a smoothly defined abdomen and my bloodshot eyes traced the contours of his pectorals before I caught myself and quickly averted them towards his eyes. His silvery irises held mine in a mirthful connection that threatened to make me blush and so I forced my eyes from him yet again and down to take stock of the food he was carrying.

I pursed my lips fighting the urge of the muscles in my cheek that wished to spring the corners of my mouth up in a grin. Marvel was brining me our breakfast in bed tradition, Coco Puffs. Anytime I slept over at his place during high school we would have breakfast in bed with some type of sugary cereal that were typically reserved for younger children. Coco Puffs had been one of our favorites.

I brought my trembling thumb and forefinger to rub the bridge of my nose. All the memories that were flooding my mind were too much: the memories shared in Marvel's bed, the prom photo; our silly fruity breakfast cereals. It all overwhelmed my struggling and alcohol poisoned brain. I felt the bed depress as Marvel's weight joined me.

"You okay?" Marvel's face was etched with all the proper concern, but somehow lacked authenticity.

I shrugged noncommittally. I truly wasn't sure what my condition was at the moment. Hung over for sure. But the confusion at the other disconnected emotions that had been building in me clouded all my other thoughts. Anger and hurt spiked in me frequently, betrayal and teen angst continued in an undercurrent through everything I did, and then there were the feelings Marvel could unwittingly strip from me. Add to that the new knowledge that he and Cato had protected me when I first came out and I couldn't have been a more confused mess.

"Here, I brought you our favorite." He sat the tray over my lap. "But first this."

Marvel's long and slender fingers were suddenly thrust in my face holding his dog-shaped glass bowl. He held the bowl to my lips and burned the weed for me; all I had to do was inhale. I was grateful as the powerful taste of weed consumed my senses and gradually alleviated the pain in my head and limbs.

"Thanks," I said and exhaled a large puff of thick billowy smoke.

"Thought you might need it. You were miles past fucked up last night." He had a slight smirk on his face that indicated he wasn't mad about anything that happened last night. "Here take the rest, you'll probably need it." He handed me the rest of the baggie of weed and I took it appreciatively.

I gazed at Marvel from under my lashes with curiosity. Why did he have to continue to try and take care of me? He always made it so difficult to remember why we were not together anymore.

* * *

"Peeta?" A voice questioned as the door to his bedroom slowly swung open from the knuckle that rapped against it.

Peeta was at seated in front of his computer scrolling through Facebook. It looked like he had been distracted from his homework as the desk was also strewn with loose papers and an open calculus book. His hair was dirty blonde and when he turned and saw Marvel at the threshold of his room he smiled.

"Hey, Marv. I didn't know you were coming over." Peeta stated, although he wasn't unhappy with the unexpected visit. He wasn't exactly getting much done.

Marvel continued to stand in the doorway as he scuffed the heel of his left foot back and forth across the floorboards. He was still wearing their Capitol Prep uniform, which meant he hadn't gone home after school ended. Peeta had already changed into some black shorts and a turquoise v-neck that really made his blue eyes pop.

"Are you okay?" Peeta finally asked after a drawn out moment of silence.

Marvel looked up startled as if he forgot Peeta was there. Then he cleared his throat and entered, closing the door behind himself.

"Uh, maybe. I don't know yet," Marvel responded vaguely.

He took a seat on Peeta's rumpled bed with a strained look on his face. Peeta swiveled in his chair to face Marvel and scooted closer. He watched him with concern, wondering what could be up. He knew that Marvel and Glimmer had broken up a few weeks before, but it had seemed very amicable and there had been little fallout for the group, so he would be surprised if it was about that.

Marvel cleared his throat again and then spoke again, this time in a soft and hesitant voice, which was something very foreign to Peeta. Marvel was always so boisterous and confident in everything he did. Most times he acted before he thought.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you… well for a long while now. But not until recently have I built up the courage to say it."

Marvel paused again and scratched the back of his neck nervously. Peeta's brow furrowed as he tried to guess what Marvel was getting at, but he was truly at a loss.

"Marv, we've been friends for years, you know you can tell me anything." Peeta said earnestly. He wanted to hug Marvel and let him know everything was going to be okay, because the look on Marvels face was like a frightened puppy that he desperately wanted to comfort.

Marvel gulped and then spat out, "Peeta I'm gay and I have feelings for you."

Peeta blinked slowly, hoping if this was a dream he'd wake up now. He'd had dreams like this before, about Marvel, even Cato. He couldn't help it. They were some of the best looking guys in the school and they were great people whom he considered close friends. But he tried to stomp out those feelings before he made anything awkward with his straight guy friends. Except he wasn't waking up now as he felt the blood rush to his cheeks and stain them red as he digested what Marvel had said.

Marvel watched Peeta closely. He wished desperately that he could read Peeta's mind. Not knowing what he was thinking was killing him. He hoped Peeta felt the same way. He _needed_ Peeta to feel the same way.

"I've had them since I first met you and I didn't know what to do with them, but I knew I needed to be near you so I befriended you. But now I know I need to say something before it's too late and you find someone else. I want your heart to belong to me. No one else," Marvel explained as he reached out to run to fingers against Peeta's bashful cheeks.

Peeta didn't know where to look while Marvel spoke, but now that he was finished he finally connected with those miraculous silver eyes and felt what little breath he had left stolen from him with Marvel's touch. The room felt hot and lacked enough oxygen for Peeta's brain to work properly. He wondered how this had happened when he had just been doing some calculus problems and Facebook stalking. Now he was sitting unprepared for the confession of feelings from one of his best friends.

"Peeta? Please say something." Marvel begged in a whisper.

Peeta opened his mouth to speak and then paused. He didn't have the words. He only had feelings. Swarming in his mind and building up in his body until all his nerve-endings were tingling with the overwhelming feeling of being noticed and wanted. Someone wanted him. Someone noticed him. Someone had seen him for what he was and wanted him. Not like Finnick who had flirted with him only to disappear. And it was one of his best friends, a guy who had always been there for him. How did he get so lucky?

So instead of speaking words he knew he didn't have he leaned forward slowly. Marvels eyes widened at the unexpected move, but then relaxed as Peeta's forehead came to rest against his. Peeta then brought his lips mere centimeters from Marvel's slightly agape mouth, but his nerves got the best of him and he couldn't finish what he started. Not until Marvel pushed forward and connected their lips in Peeta's first kiss with a boy.

Their lips stayed pressed together in a chaste expression of feelings for a while before Marvel brought a hand to rest at the back of Peeta's head where he played with his hair at the base of his neck and deepened the kiss with a hesitant poke of his tongue. He needed Peeta; he needed this. He had always needed it. The boiling in the pit of his stomach that had been growing ready to erupt finally calmed and went dormant. Peeta gasped and then gave in and acquiesced to the invading warm tongue. It felt odd and he pushed down the urge to laugh as Marvel pushed deeper.

After a few more moments of bliss that swept all thoughts from the boy's minds except what they were feeling: more; Peeta broke away from the kiss first and lightly fingered his lips, as if still unbelieving of what had just happened. Then he looked at Marvel with a sad expression and asked, "What about Glimmer. We can't do this to her."

Marvel smiled fondly, "Always so caring. Don't worry. She already knows. We broke up because I told her I was gay. She just wants me to be happy."

Peeta quirked the beginnings of a smile on his lips as he asked, "Are you happy?"

Marvel smirked triumphantly as he pulled Peeta back in for another searing kiss as he muttered against Peeta's soft and intoxicating lips, "Absolutely."

* * *

Marvel's fingers brushed against mine as he tried to take the cereal bowl from my hands. I had finished the sugary puffs, but remained holding the bowl as my mind wandered back to better days of our time together. His touch caused me to jerk back to life and he watched me with confusion.

"I know I already asked this, but you sure you're okay?" He asked as he also slipped the tray from my lap.

I didn't know how to answer that. I couldn't give him the truth. It wouldn't be fair to lead him on when my feelings towards him were such a mess.

"Just dealing with a hangover is all," I answered.

He got up to put away the tray and cereal bowl when he turned to give me an unimpressed look.

"I didn't mean the hangover."

I knew that's not what he meant, but I was playing naive. I decided I really had to pee now and shuffled my way out of his comfortable bed.

"I'll be fine, Marvel. It's not your job to take care of me anymore. So stop with the third degree."

I pushed past him and made my way to the bathroom. I just couldn't stop myself from being an asshole. I debated whether I should tell Marvel the truth about everything I was dealing with while I used his bathroom. So much had happened and maybe I did need someone to confide in, I just didn't know how to do that with him anymore. I flushed and then tried to use some water from the sink faucet to tame my wild bed head in the mirror. My eyes looked dull in color and my skin looked more pallid than usual.

When I returned to Marvel's room it was empty and I figured he must have gone downstairs to put away the dishes. I wondered around, exploring the room I once knew so well. Most things were the same, even the pictures, which gave me an uncomfortable feeling. Marvel still had pictures of us up like we were still a couple. He was obviously still unable to give up on me and I felt guilty for having so easily moved on from him. He was my first love and my mind continually wandered back to him over that past year, but with the memory of what happened always lingering in the back of my mind and tainting my every thought and action it was hard to let forgiveness into my heart.

As I passed his cluttered desk something familiar caught my eye. A picture I had seen recently and struck fear in my heart. The mere thought of it caused my heart to hesitate a beat and my muscles tensed. This couldn't be. I reached forward to uncover the photo that was partially blocked by junk mail.

Marvel returned to his room, with a shirt thankfully this time, and I turned toward him accusatorially, "Where did this come from?"

He looked from what I held in my hand and then at my demanding and slightly panicked face.

"You mean the post card?" He questioned. His grey eyes shifted from the card with the green field on it to my face and then back again.

"Yes, the postcard! This one with the threatening note!" I almost shouted as I thrust the familiar post card in his face. "The god damn fucking card written in _blood_!"

He pushed my hand out of his face exasperatedly.

"It just showed up on the windshield of my car a few days ago, I don't know where it came from." He stared me down unappreciative of the tone I had taken, which was a panicked shout.

"And you didn't think this was important to share with your friends?" My voice cracked like a pubescent boys as I spoke heatedly.

"I don't understand what this has to do with you, Peeta. I thought it was some silly joke. Besides, we haven't been on the best terms where I can just come to you and say hey I got this weird postcard the other day," He replied with a subtle sneer. I guess I was working his nerves this morning too.

"Well it's not a joke, _Marvel_. Clove got a postcard just like this. It's why she's back in town. She's worried and now I'm worried too, verging on terrified. What if more of us got this? What if someone knows?" I demanded with building hysteria, I was never good at containing my emotions when it came to facing what occurred on graduation night.

"Clove has one?" He asked surprised. His whole demeanor changed as he took the post card from my hand and re-analyzed it, looking for something he missed. "Come on, we should go to Glimmer's. I want to see Clove's card."

I didn't fight him, because I agreed, we needed to go back to Clove's. Something was happening and I was afraid what it all meant.

After stopping by the bar so I could pick up my car we found ourselves in Glimmer's living room. Glimmer was confused by our abrupt visit and anxious manner while Clove seemed apprehensive at my inclusion of both Glim and Marv.

"So what brings you two here?" Glim asked with a sly smile from a lime green Frank Gehry lounge chair. She wore a crimson halter-top and dark wash jeans, her beach blonde hair hanging in perfect coils. She was always dressed to go out. Her motto was you never know who's looking so always look your best.

I wondered if she thought we were back together and here to announce the news. I wouldn't be surprised. Her mind seemed to work in two categories, gossip and fashion. If it was outside those realms she wasn't too interested, but today may be an exception.

I glanced at Marvel, where we both sat on a bright blue Frank Gehry sofa with a back only half as long as the seat was, and he nodded in approval. I handed the postcard over to Clove on a similar lime green chair (Glimmer's fathers loved color) and said, "Marvel received one too, a few days ago on his windshield."

Clove sucked in her bottom lip to chew on while she appraised the newest postcard. I also noticed Glimmer's silence. I turned to check on her and saw her body had gone rigid as she stared in concern at the postcard in Clove's small hands.

"Glim?"

I reached out to touch her knee and she whipped her head to look at me like a frightened mouse.

"I-I received one of those too…" She stuttered.

"_What_? Why didn't you tell me?" Clove asked outraged. Her short raven hair dislodged from behind an ear at the quick turn of her head towards Glimmer and covered part of her face.

"When? Where? Does yours say the same thing?" Marvel threw at her.

"Guys, let her breathe!" I scolded as I went to Glimmer's side. She seemed overwhelmed. Her hands fluttered in distress by her side and she breathed heavily.

Clove asked if she could see it and Glimmer told her where to find the postcard in her bedroom dresser. While she was gone Marvel went to fetch Glim some water while I asked her how she received it.

"It sh-showed up last week on my bed in the dorms, right before I was set to go to LA for my internship. My roommate had already left and I don't know how it got there, but I was freaked. So I b-begged my dads to let me intern for them from home. I thought it would be best if I was near you guys—" She looked at me with wide puppy dog eyes and took a few ragged breaths, "—but then I didn't know how to bring it up and I didn't want to ruin the mood when we were all reunited at lunch the other day and then I thought maybe I should just forget about it and no—now… what does it mean Peeta?" She finished her rant and gripped my wrists with a surprising strength.

Clove and Marvel returned during Glim's little frantic speech and watched from the sidelines as I tried to calm her down. Clove held up the three postcards so Marvel could see them too as they analyzed them together.

"They're exactly the same. The same picture of a field, the same handwriting and sentence written in blood," Clove stated.

Glimmer gasped, "Is someone trying to hurt us? What's the blood for?"

"Whoever sent it is probably just trying to scare us with it." Marvel supplied.

Clove thought it seemed reasonable, but my mind was worried about something else. If they had all received a postcard had Cato? And why had he yet to receive one? What was going on and what did it all mean? There didn't seem to be any tangible way to find the answers he sought, except to visit Cato like Clove had asked.

"But what if someone knows! What if they go to the police?" Glimmer asked on the verge of panic.

Clove took the postcards from Marvel and put them away in her purse as she told Glim, "Let's not lose our heads just yet. If the person who sent this wanted to go to the police they could have long ago. No they want something."

"This is just so fucked up." Marvel stated as he fell backwards onto the blue couch.

He was still holding Glim's water and I motioned at it to get his attention. He had been so lost in his thoughts he must have forgot he was holding the glass as he looked at it with confusion. I pointed at Glimmer and he connected the dots then brought the glass of water to Glimmer. She gratefully drank from it until there was only a drop of moisture left.

I decided then it was time for me to leave. I needed to figure out if I was the only one that did not receive a threatening postcard.

"I'm gonna go you guys. I think I'll do what you asked of me yesterday Clove." I stated my plans vaguely, not wanting Marvel to know I was going to see Cato. I didn't think he would like that very much, not when he had practically attacked me the last time I saw him.

Marvel stared at me like a traitor and asked, "Where are you going?"

Clove had understood what I was saying and nodded at me subtly while I deflected Marvel's question. "You should stay here and try to see if you guys can piece together anything. I'll call you later."

Marvel did not seem to want to let me go on my own, but Clove gripped his arm and asked, "Stay. We all received the postcard for some reason; lets try to figure it out."

I headed towards the front door when Glim shouted, "Be careful, Peeta! Trust no one!"

I smiled and chuckled, "Okay, Glim. You stay sane now."

Once in my car and driving the short distance north along the bluffs to Cato's I tried to arrange my disconnected thoughts. I still had yet to speak to my father, but he knows I'm safe since he sent Marvel to get me. I had no clue what the fuck was up with Finnick's behavior, it was still a mystery to me, along with Cato's bi-polar behavior at his house. Then there was the fact that Katniss was missing, although I hadn't heard anything from the police so I wondered if maybe Katniss had shown up at the last minute. Regardless now there was somebody sending out postcards written in blood to my friends, but I had yet to get one. Why? Did this person want to make me look guilty? Or worse, did he or she have different plans for me?

I shook my head to clear my mind of those disturbing thoughts and turned off the road onto Cato's driveway. I couldn't allow myself to devolve into crazy what-if scenarios, there was nothing to be gained from thinking such things and I needed to figure out if Cato had any involvement in this. If he had a postcard too what would that mean for me? And to be completely honest I just needed to get away from Marvel. Being around him was like being in the midst of a freak storm. One where it was bright and sunny one minute, the birds were chirping and everything's fine. Then the next moment a black storm cloud rolled in with gusts of wind and pelting rain and lightning and suddenly my mind was reeling. There were too many stimuli and not enough brainpower to process it all; he overwhelmed my senses and ability to think clearly.

I put my car in park and jumped out of the jeep onto the deep red brick pavers of Cato's driveway. I saw Cato's sparkling red Aston Martin convertible parked out front so I knew he was home. It was a beautiful car and I wished I knew more about them other than it was obscenely expensive and Cato probably got it from guilt tripping his absent parents who were supposedly always off wining and dining in cities like New York and Paris for his work as a hedge fund manager. I may not love everything about my father, but at least he had always lived in the same house with me. I wondered briefly if I should call him, but then decided I still didn't want to talk to him and he could suffer just a little bit more.

As I headed for the expansive oak wood front doors of Cato's mansion it opened from within and a short and portly Hispanic woman exited through it. She was wearing the typical nurses uniform from the local County Hospital, which was an atrocious puce color, and carrying a small case with a medical symbol on it.

"Goodbye Mister Ryves," The woman said as she turned to walk down the steps.

Cato appeared at the door, "Thank you Octavia, I'll see you next time…" He trailed off when he spotted me standing at the bottom of the steps up to his door.

Octavia nodded a hello to me as she passed and then walked down the driveway towards the street where she must have parked her car. I wondered why she didn't park in the driveway and most of all what she was doing make a house call to Cato's. Was he really sick? Maybe Johanna was correct in being worried about his health.

I smiled self-depreciatingly at Cato as I closed the gap between us. The kid-caught-with-his-hand-in-the-cookie-jar-look was swept from his face as he nodded and opened the door wider for my entrance.

"What's up?" He asked with a restrained voice and blank face. He definitely was caught off guard by my appearance and I felt guilty about it, but thought maybe it was best if he was unprepared for my visit.

I knew I needed to be delicate. I couldn't just tell him what everyone was thinking or accuse him of anything just yet and I was not quite sure where we stood after our altercation the day before. Plus after just seeing that nurse leave his place I was more worried for him than anything else. I couldn't help but care for him, especially now that I knew what he had done for me. People often misjudged him as a typical jock, not much beneath the shallow surface, but I knew how wrong they were. He was probably the only person in our group of friends that could keep up with me smarts wise, but he didn't really like people to know it.

"Well, uh, I thought maybe I owed you an apology, although I'm not sure what for…" I made up on the fly. I didn't really feel like apologizing for him attacking me unprovoked, but I thought I best to appease him before I turned this into a confrontation.

He nodded and then turned and walked back to his kitchen. I stood in the entryway for a second, unsure what to do, before I followed him.

When I entered the kitchen down the long hallway Cato was chugging a glass of milk. Once finished the clatter of the glass against the granite counter was harsh in the silence. I twisted the heel of my foot against the wood floor nervously. Cato then looked at me with deep blue mournful eyes and I was unprepared for them. I broke eye contact first and stared somewhere above his left shoulder.

"I should be the one apologizing," Cato finally spoke.

I dared to look at his cobalt eyes once more and found their intensity no less diminished. There was too much vulnerability in the room and I deviated from my judicious plan.

"Well there's another reason I came." I stated with a straightened back.

Cato raised an eyebrow expectantly, but remained silent. His eyes still like blue fire that scorched my presence and I wished I knew what was behind them, wished I could understand him, but instead I lashed out.

"Clove, Glimmer, and Marvel have all received threatening notes written in blood. Some think you may be behind it. Some are not convinced of your health."

I laid it all out in a bold move, my eyes wide with implications at the last sentence, leaving unspoken the fact that I just saw a nurse leave his home. My exterior may have been rigid and harsh, displaying none of my emotions outwardly, but inward I was a tumultuous wreck as my anxiety and terror, hope and worry all swarmed together in a volatile mix. I felt like a high school chemistry lab, one wrong mix of chemicals and _boom_ everything's gone up in flames.

Cato's chest swelled at all the accusations. He stalked towards me with a powerful stride and I tried not to falter in my confidence, but I couldn't help myself from taking a step back. Cato was a large and intimidating male specimen. One couldn't help but feel submissive in his alarmingly large presence. And the new piece added to the puzzle with the nurse Octavia lending credence to his health problems I worked hard to swallow down my apprehension.

"That is quite an accusation. Peeta." He stated idly. "You sure some people think this or just you." He leaned in close until his head and eyes were directly in my line of sight.

I remained defiant in my lack of eye contact, but his all-consuming presence worked at my raw nerves. The tension in the room was thick and crackled between us like electricity.

"I don't know what I think. What I do know is three out of the five of us have received a post card talking about wrongs being righted. Just over a year since graduation night," I replied with self-discipline.

He snorted and then turned away from me thumping his closed fist against the counter. I exhaled the breath I had been holding.

"You don't know anything…" He flailed his hands about as if trying to grab the words he wished to use from the air around us. "I promise you I had nothing to do with those post cards. You—"

He cut himself off and muttered something to himself before turning back to me with shockingly painful and emotive eyes. The mere sight of them dissipated the tension from the room like a balmy wind had swept through and tempered our rigid muscles. In that moment I knew he was telling the truth. His eyes could never lie to me. Clove was right in knowing he had a soft spot for me. I may not know why, but I could not deny that we have always had a connection.

"Fuck, it's all just so… fucked. Everything." I sighed with defeat as I wiped a hand down my tired face. The hang over was still lingering in my system and working me quickly towards exhaustion the effects of the marijuana long gone with all the morning action.

"Let's get out of here." Cato suddenly said.

"Where?"

"I don't know, but I just need to get out of this house and clear my head. By the looks of it you could use the same," Cato replied astutely, eyeing me from head-to-toe for effect.

I nodded. I couldn't argue on that front. I definitely needed to find a way to clear my mind and find some semblance of peace before I found myself overwhelmed and incapacitated by my fears, insecurities and memories. Plus maybe the alone time with Cato would yield answers.

"Lead the way."

I motioned with my arm towards the door and he took lead, grabbing his keys from a ceramic dish in the hallway. He frowned at my hand and asked what happened. I cringed at the memory and held my still tender fist towards my body.

"I got into an altercation." I stated with no room for further discussion. I really didn't want to talk about last night.

Once in the driveway I walked towards my car when Cato spoke, "My car," and there was no denying him.

Next thing I knew the top was down on his two-seat convertible and we were flying down the Pacific Coast Highway south towards Santa Barbara. The Pacific Ocean was sprawled out before my view on the right, hundreds of feet below us as were curved around the edges of breathtaking cliffs. The sandy oranges and clay browns of the rocky mountainsides we sped past reflected against the vibrant blue of the surprisingly calm ocean. It was a rugged beauty and a sight I often missed in Arizona. It was always so dry and dusty living in the middle of a desert, but here there was always so much water and fresh air and striking scenery; images that embedded themselves in your minds-eye not easily forgotten in their beauty.

I held a hand out over the edge of the car and let the buffeting wind keep it afloat. I watched how subtle adjustments in my wrist could cause my arm to rise or fall with out any work on my part. The sun glinted off the ocean giving it a sparkling gem like appearance across the surface. I pretended like I was trying to pluck the precious stones from the surface of the ocean with one eye squeezed closed. The fresh and cooling air that swept up the hood of Cato's speeding Aston Martin and washed over us cleansed our soiled minds and souls.

The road twisted in sharp curves around rocky cliffs with mudslide warnings spaced every few thousand feet. The air tasted crisp and salty. The heat that had been blanketing the region for the past few days seemed to be giving a special respite just for us, this day, at this moment. Every so often I would catch a glimpse of a home set spectacularly atop the cliffs, over looking the ocean and seeming like a castle perched atop an impenetrable mountain, arrogant in it's design and authoritative in it's ownership of the sprawling views it held.

My eyes drifted from the engrossing scenery to watch Cato. I had little idea where we were going, but the destination was hardly the point. He wore a salmon colored polo shirt that complimented his skin tone and khaki shorts, a surprising frat boy look for him, but not completely out of place. His short blonde locks, usually so effortlessly styled upward on his head, were flung about in wild disarray from the breeze. My eyes drifted from the profile of his head, the gentle slope of his nose, the strong jaw squared jaw line and slightly parted lips, to his wide shoulders and down his finely contoured biceps to his fingers wrapped around the leather steering wheel. Cato's grip on the wheel had started out iron clad, but was slowly loosening as he calmed in the awing aura of nature.

Cato glanced at me every so often, but I never looked away abashed at being caught staring and he never seemed to mind the attention. He smiled tenderly at me by the third time he caught me looking and it washed over me pleasantly like the cool summer breeze as we drove. He had always been the easiest in our group of friends to just be with, content and existing in the moment. There were no demands to fill the silent voids with idle chatter or feel uncomfortable in the gaps. With the others silence was always treated as the enemy, something to be avoided, and if we did by chance fall out of topics to converse in it was thought of as a flaw in our friendship. Friends should always have something to talk about.

After another ten minutes Cato began to slow and veered the car to the right side of the PCH where he pulled off onto the shoulder. There was just enough room for his car and then about another few feet before the railing and the ground just dropped away to the ocean. Before I had even unbuckled my seat belt Cato was out and the door was clicking shut. He walked around the hood of the car and over to a bench oddly placed all alone along this stretch of the highway. I pulled myself out of the car and walked to the edge of the railing. The drop down to the crashing waves below was almost vertigo inducing, but I quickly returned to looking outwards and beat off the impending wave of dizziness, happily discovering my hangover had dissolved somewhere during the ride into the open air.

I took a meandering path over to the bench Cato was slouched against. He never once looked at me as I came up to the bench then headed around it and leaned with both hands against the back of the bench. The wood was rough and could of used some sanding, but my attention was quickly drawn to the view displayed before us. The bench was positioned along a particularly sharp outcropping of the cliffs, making it seem as if there was nothing but pristine cerulean ocean around us for miles. It was such a clear day with nary a cloud in the sky allowing for the sun to shine it's full radiance and making for an unbelievably vivid view of the Channel Islands in the distance. It was as if God himself had painted the scene before us with airy brushstrokes for the frothy waves below and all around us and a more finely tuned stoke to bring out the definition of the chain of islands usually so shrouded in fog.

I wondered if Cato came here often. He definitely was here before as there was no hesitation in getting to this spot even though he had said he didn't know where he was headed. I wished I had a place to call my own that was away from it all and where I could come and collect my thoughts. I finally moved around to the front of the bench to take a seat. I was extremely grateful to Cato for having brought me out here. The past week had been a rollercoaster of emotions and revelations that didn't seem to be slowing. My mind had been boiling over with all my scrambled emotions and the strained relations I continued to make with everyone.

"I come here sometimes to escape. My mind. Family. Friends. Whatever…" Cato finally spoke and it was a jarringly abrupt transition from my internal monologue and the sounds of nature all around us: the caws of the seagulls, the rushing breeze, and the roaring of the waves below.

"It's a beautiful spot," I remarked.

"Yeah, it is," He supplied with an ambivalent shrug as he changed from a slouched figure to one hunched over his knees.

I watched him from the corner of my eye. He hadn't said it aloud, but I could tell it was implied he had never brought anyone else to this spot before. I tried to clamp down on the feeling it brought about in my stomach.

"Is—is everything alright, Cato? I'm not just asking out of obligation or for conversation."

It was true. Some people may ask that question to be polite or conversational, but never with the intention of actually wishing to know if they are truly _okay_. He took a deep shaky breath through his flared nostrils as he arched is back and straightened his position before angling to his left on the bench and way from me.

"No. But come on, you can't honestly say you're okay either. I don't think any of us have been since that night."

Cato shivered despite the heat radiating from the sun. He clawed at his arms in his habitual display of distress. I reached out and slowly placed my open palm on his turned back. I could feel his muscles spasm as he fought for control, of what I could not be sure. Eventually he settled and spoke in a strained voice, deep and gravely.

"It haunts me every night Peeta. What we did. What _I _did. I tried so hard to make everything work, but the pieces, they just kept slipping through my fingers. I can see where they should go, but I'm unable to make it fit."

I listened intently, trying to make sense of what he was saying. But his rambling words eluded understanding, except for the first part. I knew that all too well.

He continued, "I thought UCLA would be a fresh start, but it followed me. I barely made it a semester before I dropped out and returned home, ashamed. I don't sleep and when I do all I see is blood… Peeta—"

The way he said my name was filled with such heartbreak and emotion it felt like a punch to the gut and I struggled to breath.

"—How can anything ever be good again? How can I? I didn't mean for any of it to happen and it terrifies me. What if I'm something evil?"

He finally turned to look at me making my hand fall from his back as his eyes held mine and glinted wet like sapphires. I swallowed a few times and Cato's eyes traced the movement of my Adam's apple with rapt attention.

"Cato, you are not a monster," I paused and made him look me dead in the eyes. Then I repeated it. "You. Are not. A monster. You're guilty conscience proves that. What happened was a fucking awful tragedy and we handled it terribly, like self-centered teenagers, each thinking the world revolved around us and not realizing we were all in this together. We all fucked up. Majorly and it's not okay. We were all complicit. Not just you. Do you understand me? Clove worked your buttons. Marvel enabled you. Glimmer and I sat back like cowards. We're all responsible for that night and it's something we will have to deal with the rest of our lives."

I gasped, because it was the bare naked truth. We were all guilty and we were all responsible for the actions of that night. I couldn't just blame the others like I had done for the past year. Because even though I tried to pawn the guilt off on the others, sever ties and think awful thoughts of them, my subconscious was eating away at me, working and wearing me down until I was broken and mangled, bleeding out on the floor by the truth I denied.

Cato seemed to be having a similar reaction to my words as his face struggled to work out what was happening internally. Everyone had run from each other, never wanting to look back and tossing the blame around, but we needed each other to find a way to move on.

"C'mere," I said with a grunt as I pushed myself up and stood before Cato with open arms.

He rolled his eyes and I stomped my foot, "Come. Here." I wiggled my fingers playfully (the non-bruised ones) until he stood with a begrudging sigh. My fingers pulled at his polo until his large frame was towering over me and then I wrapped my arms around his wide frame as he did the same. His grip was surprisingly tight as he held me close and I rubbed his back in a soothing manner. I rested me head just under the crook of his neck where it met his shoulder and I closed my eyes.

I truly could not remember the last time I had hugged someone and not just a perfunctory hug of greeting or the requisite ones you dole out to family members. It was freeing to be able to feel another body against mine that needed it just as much as I, that needed the comfort and warmth of another persons caring touch.

We held each other for a long while until our breaths were united and our chests rose and fell in harmony with the other. The breeze swirled around us and the sun kissed our skin, warming it blissfully. I felt Cato's hands ghost along my back and come to rest at my hips as he snuggled his chin into my brown hair. The hug went on a beat too long and I hesitated, wondering what it meant. I pulled back slowly and heard the subtle release of air from Cato's lips. With my arms still loosely wrapped around him I looked up at him curiously. He quirked the corner of one mouth up ever so slightly into a half smile for me and I stuttered. Then he blinked as if just now realizing how long we've been holding each other and he pushed back away from me. I cursed myself internally for letting my stupid feelings ruin a perfectly good moment.

Then suddenly a thought popped into my head. It might do more harm than good, but it also had the potential to give us both catharses.

"Cato, I think it's time we go back. I'm sure I've worried my dad enough. But um…" I looked at the ground for a moment and then back up to Cato, "I have an idea. If you are free tomorrow and don't mind, I'd like to try something."

Cato thought for a moment and then replied, "I don't work until late tomorrow when a shipment is due in. What are you thinking?"

I shook my head and started walking back to Cato's red convertible, "I'll tell you tomorrow. Meet me at my house at 8."

Then I slid back into the soft leather seat of his car and waited for Cato to join me and start the ignition. My days had a way of starting out seeming to go in one direction and then ending up somewhere completely different. Mostly they ended up veering into dark and troubling waters, but today didn't turn out anywhere near as bad as it could have lead.

Once he pulled us back onto the PCH I reached for his dashboard and said, "Let's play some music this time."

_I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums_

_Oh what a shame that you came here with someone_

_So while you're here in my arms,_

_Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young_

Cato laughed joyfully when I turned the radio on and Ke$ha blared in all her auto-tuned glory from his speakers. She was an ever-constant presence in our high school lives and it seemed fitting that she would be what was playing on the radio as we wound our way back to Panem Beach. Sometimes things just came full circle.

**So, what do you all think? Reviews are my best barometer of who is still with me, what they like and what they don't, so leave one if you like my writing and want more!**


	6. The Seam

**I love you all my loyal reviewers, keep it up, it always gives me a big kick in the ass to write when I see your reviews! Now here's one of my largest chapters since ch. 1! **

The Seam

About an hour later, after Cato drove us back to his house, I finally returned home some twenty hours later since the fight with my dad. I parked in my usual spot in the driveway and sat inside the car turned off for a few minutes afraid of what might wait for me on the inside. I knew how I acted the day before was wrong, but I could not stop myself from feeling completely indignant towards my father. It was irrational and counter-productive, but I couldn't seem to muster the energy to care. Too much else was going on to rank the relationship with my father as a high priority.

Upon entering the house I found most everything was the same. I don't know what I had been expecting, but my mind ran wild with the possibilities. Like finding all my stuff in boxes or my dad and brothers with some stranger and a camera crew ready for an episode of intervention. Instead the house was quiet and the kitchen was cleaned, as if the mess I made and the shouts shared with my dad never occurred.

My eyes alighted upon the cleaned iPhone set on the countertop. I rushed to it and swiped it open. I had five missed calls from my dad, probably before he realized I left it here, along with another missed call from Gale and multiple texts from him, Clove and Marvel. Clove just wished to know how it went with Cato while Marvel wanted to know if he could come over later. I ignored both of their texts for the moment and looked at my thread with Gale.

-_Hey, Peetie. Sorry I missed your call. I was at a 'family' dinner. You free?_

_ -Okay so it's been over a day now and I haven't heard from you, everything okay?_

_ -Peeeeta, are you mad at me? Talk to me!_

I felt bad for having seemingly bailed on Gale. He knows I normally prefer to text, so when I call it's usually important and I just disappeared on him after calling. He probably thought I was on some crazy bender, which was actually kind of true. But I needed to call him. Just as I was about to dial his number and put his worried mind at ease I heard someone coming down the stairs. I quickly stowed my phone in my back pocket when my dad entered the room with high-arched eyebrows.

We stared at each other on tenterhooks for a few minutes before he finally made a move for the refrigerator. I dropped my head as I crept towards the stairs, hoping to make it to my room without a confrontation.

"That's it? Not even a 'hey, I'm sorry for being a little shit?'" Dad asked bitterly.

I smoothly nodded my head, deserving that, but refusing to be complacent.

"What do you want me to do, pretend I give a fuck?"

He groaned and shut the fridge door with a forceful thud.

"For Christ sake Peeta, this behavior is _not_ okay! Let's not even start about how you're only 19 and drinking, but then you drive off, _drunk_, and disappear into the night. I feared you had wrapped your car around some telephone pole or drove of a cliff! Marvel had to call me at one in the morning to tell me he found you!"

I cringed at his rant, not because of his forceful and raised voice, but because of the subtle notes of agony behind them that he was trying to mask with anger. I knew what I was doing to my father was hurting him. I was lashing out and blaming him for my problems unjustly. Yes he could have caught the abuse my mother was putting me through much sooner, but we were seven years removed from that and I needed to let bygones seriously be bygones.

Except I didn't.

"Please, I've always been last on your list of priorities. Let's not change anything now," I scoffed.

His face fell with dejection at my words and I instantly regretted them, but it was too late to change tactics now. He focused his attention on washing his hands at the sink refraining from looking at me as he finally responded.

"Okay, Peeta. Let's have it your way." He sounded so exhausted and just plain beat. I'd never realized how old he looked until this moment as the lights from the kitchen clearly defined the wrinkles on his face and the white hairs in his already graying goatee. "I don't want to leave you alone after what you pulled, but I guess I'll just shuffle my priorities so you don't factor into that decision."

I frowned, confused by what he was saying and ready to ask when he continued.

"I've been invited by the host of the Food Network to compete in their cook-off reality show the Hunger Games. I'll be gone for a few days in Los Angeles while we prep and shoot the episode. This is a great opportunity for publicity for the Cornucopia and I'm going to take it." He finished washing his hand and toweled them dry while staring me down as he continued, "All I ask is you try to refrain from getting into trouble with alcohol while I'm gone. Smoke as much pot as you want as long as it keeps you indoors and away from the car."

I choked on my spit at his mentioning of smoking weed, but he smirked mirthlessly.

"Yes I know you smoke, too. You think I couldn't smell it all over you on the way to Mom's funeral?"

It was a rhetorical question thankfully so I didn't have to answer. Instead I just blinked rapidly and moved towards the stairs before turning back to face him.

"I'll stay out of trouble. For a few days…"

Then I leapt up the stairs and barricaded myself in my room for the rest of the evening. I refused to say goodbye to him or even interact with him until he returned from his fifteen minutes of fame in Hollywood land. I cannot say I didn't enjoy the prospect of the hours all to myself for the next week. I pulled the weed out of my pocket that Marvel had given me and rolled a nice fat joint and smoked it in my room, just to push my dad's buttons.

The only time I left my room was to run into town for some fast food for dinner. On my way back I stopped at the park a few blocks from my home and sat on the swings eating my burger. I remembered how when I was little my mother would take my brothers and I here. It was disconcerting to be faced with an even slightly positive memory that involved my siblings and mom. It was long before she went into her deep depression and drug addiction, before my brothers knew I was gay, before I knew how fucked up life could get. When everything was simple and the scariest thing in the world was touching the 'lava' under the playground castle.

The sun was slowly setting in the west behind me, as I swung idly back and forth trapped in my memories of easier days. The sky grew purple and dark navy in the distance before me, much like the darkness that was growing at the edges of my mind, daunting in the implications of the corrupting and consuming blackness it fashioned. The darkness chased the sun's light from the sky, eager for its time. How much light was left in my mind? Was I just corrupted flesh and bone, the darkness having banished redemption from my midst?

Suddenly Grouplove's song Colours blasted from my phone and jolted me from my morbid thoughts. Those lyrics meant something. Gale was calling. I repeated it in my head: Gale was calling! I quickly dug into my pockets to fetch my cell and answer his call.

"Gale!" I shouted and a bird took flight from the telephone lines, if Gale wasn't on the other end I would have felt oppressively alone.

"Peeta, finally! Where've you been?" Gale asked, worry evident in his tone.

I sighed into the phone and gave him an edited version of the events of the past few days. It was shockingly good to hear his voice. Two days really was too long to go with out talking to him. It began to dawn on me how much I relied on Gale. He was like my rock. He kept me sturdy. He kept the panic at bay and forced me to acknowledge my problems. If he hadn't been my roommate going into college I can't imagine how much more fucked up I could have become. Was it even possible to devolve into a more self-centered nymphomaniac?

"Cato did what?" Gale's voice crackled with rage over the phone and I cringed. I knew I should have edited a little more carefully.

"Well I was snooping around where I shouldn't have been…" Like that was a sufficient excuse for being tossed into a wall by your friend.

"That's no excuse," He called me out.

"Johanna works with him now and she's been worried for some time now about his health and yesterday I was at his place when I saw a nurse leaving after making a house call. Maybe something more is going on," I explained further.

"You sure have some great friends. I see why you didn't want to go back."

"Yeah, if I was in Florence right now studying abroad I'd sure not be in any of the current predicaments I'm in." I said in defeat.

We tried to move on to happier topics, but good things were in short supply lately.

"I miss you…" I whispered. It may have been too low for Gale to hear me, but I was okay with that. I didn't want him to get his hopes up that things were changing. I knew in the back of his mind somewhere he hoped that maybe the time apart would make me realize how much I wanted to be with him; absence making the heart grow fonder and that kind of thing. And maybe there was some truth to that, but I was also battling lingering feelings for Marvel, a fierce sexual attraction to Finnick and… Well it just wouldn't be fair to him to get involved with me. I wrapped the swing's chain around my neck like a noose. I hated how fucked up my feelings were.

After my conversation with Gale ended and I had sufficiently convinced him he didn't need to drive up here and 'kick some ass,' I drifted aimlessly back and forth on the swings. The sun had set and the cheery colors of the playground suddenly faded in the dark. Stark shadows were cast by the streetlights and they stretched toward me like demon's claws trying to pull me into their world of ghosts and torment.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled and my hair stood to attention, saluting the collar of my shirt. It was a familiar sensation. I searched behind me for the source of my nerves, but found nothing amiss. When I turned forward again I hiccupped at the sight in the distance. A man was standing in the shadows behind the spotlight of the nearest streetlamp. He was indistinct in the distance, but I could feel the persons focus rested solely on me. It was like his eyes were burning a hole into my chest even though I couldn't see them. I reached for the keys in my pocket, readying myself for a quick dash to my car. The person stepped forward, halfway into the light, revealing the black tracksuit it wore, but leaving its face obscured in darkness.

I shivered despite the sweat stains under my arms indicating the summer heat. There was no one else around and this was entering dangerous territory. What was the figure doing? Why was he watching me? I tensed like a coiled spring and then sprung into action. I jumped up from the swing and it flailed behind be impotently as I ran to my car. I frantically locked the door behind me and started the engine. Panic pushed my throbbing heart up into my throat strangling me. Once a good distance was put between my car and the man watching me I allowed myself to breath. It came out in a strangled laugh. With everything that had been going on recently I guess I was letting my nerves get the best of me. I shook my head embarrassed at my overreaction. Although when I returned home I made sure all the doors and windows were locked.

* * *

It was late on a Thursday night when Peeta, with freshly died brown hair, was stumbling down the hallway to his dorm room. He had gone to get wasted after his evening class. There had been a test and he failed it. He hadn't even tried to study for it. Although Gale had given him major crap, which was why he ended up at the Chili's on campus drowning his sorrows in their two-for-one margarita specials. He'd also logged onto Grindr on his phone trying to pick up some guy nearby on campus that he could get to suck him off. Unfortunately nothing had worked out. So now he was outside his dorm room trying fruitlessly to insert the key into the lock, but the deadbolt just kept moving.

Finally the door magically opened from the inside for him. Gale stood before him in one of the many black crew neck shirts he liked to sleep in and boxers, revealing toned and tanned legs covered in a fine dusting of hair. Peeta looked at Gale in surprise.

"M'sorry, I was tryna be quiet, but the damn key don't work." Peeta vented.

Gale laughed loudly at Peeta and pulled him into their small dorm room. The layout had their twin beds positioned on opposing sides with their desks side-by-side against the wall in between their beds. Gale's bed was next to the window that overlooked the intramural fields and Peeta's was nearest the door.

"You're drunk. Let me guess, you bombed the quiz?"

Peeta waved a sloppy hand at Gale as if to dismiss him and he walked straight to Gale's bed were he collapsed on his face and stomach, legs still touching the ground.

"S'was big fwiz," Peeta slurred into the comforter.

Gale began packing a bowl into their bong Amber. Large and yellowish-brown in color, the water bong that Gale had purchased a few weeks ago at the start of the spring term for Peeta was also an incentive. Every time he worked with Gale on studying and homework he would reward Peeta by getting high with him. Peeta loved getting stoned and so it seemed like the best incentive to get him to start pulling up his grades. He wasn't allowed to smoke unless he'd accomplished something.

"What was that?" Gale asked as he sat on the bed next to Peeta's collapsed form. "Here. Have a hit. You know it will help with the hangover tomorrow."

Peeta finally rolled over onto his back and he was now lying half-sprawled atop Gale's thigh. Gale's breath hitched at their new position.

"Was a big quiz!" He clarified with a blast of noxious alcohol breath.

Gale held the bong for Peeta and he sat up, took the device from Gale's hands and proceeded to light the weed and wrap his lips obscenely around the pipe. Gale was unsure where to look while Peeta fellated their bong.

Peeta blew the smoke towards Gale and began giggling uncontrollably as he fell backwards onto the bed. Gale heaved a sigh and stood up.

"Let's get you to your bed," He said, lifting Peeta's arm and wrapping it around his neck. He half carried, half stumbled over to Peeta's unmade bed. Peeta, being very uncooperative, flung himself upon the bed and used the momentum to pull Gale down with him.

"Oof! C'mon!" Gale admonished.

"_Gale_, cuddle wif me!" Peeta pleaded, exaggerating the sound of Gale's name.

Gale couldn't turn down the puppy dog stare and quavering bottom lip so he adjusted their position so Gale was spooning Peeta from behind. They'd cuddled on each other's beds before, but it was usually only on occasions where they were high and watching Pretty Little Liars on Gale's laptop, requiring a close proximity to see the screen. Peeta's head snuggled against Gale's arm like it was his pillow while their legs entwined like tangled vines.

"97, 96, 95…" Gale counted in a hushed tone.

"Wha's that?" Peeta grinned. He might be drunk and high, but he was pretty sure he knew what was happening.

"Oh, uh nothing," Gale replied uncomfortably as he tried to shift backwards from Peeta. Peeta was having none of it and he pushed back until his soft behind was pressed firmly into Gale's groin. "Ungg," An involuntary groan escaped Gale's lips.

It was all the sound Peeta needed. He was lost in a permanent state of desire since trying to pick up guys earlier in the evening. He turned his face into the warm flesh of Gale's arm and teasingly brushed his lips against the tanned skin. His tongue flitted out to trace a vein up Gale's bicep causing the skin to ripple with goosebumps. Meanwhile his hips were grinding his ass up against Gale's now rigid member. Gale's scent overwhelmed him, salty like an ocean breeze and earthy like rich soil. He swept Peeta up like a kite and carried him to a far off land where the pain of his past could no longer touch him. Peeta devoured Gale's smell and the skin of his arm exposed to him.

"Peeta…" He gasped. This was not what he had expected when he found Peeta drunk at their door. Peeta often got wasted and he was always diligently there waiting to help pick up the pieces and take care of him. There was so much more to Peeta than his sex-crazed, party boy façade. There was a deep pain he hid away from the world and a strong distrust of people. But further underneath all of that was Peeta's true self, compassionate, loving, friendly and outgoing. Gale wanted to excavate those aspects. He wanted to save Peeta from himself, before it all caved in.

Moist lips continued to work their way up Gale's bicep until they reached the edge of his black t-shirt. Peeta, in a deceptively sober movement, flipped himself around in the bed to face Gale and tug the shirt over his head, exposing tanned and muscled skin with a light dusting of hair between his pecs. Gale remained paralyzed as his fists clenched the sheets of Peeta's bed. Peeta continued his trek uninterrupted now up Gale's arm, kissing his shoulder and then down to his chest, nuzzling his nose against the hair of Gale's chest. Peeta dug his nails into Gales torso eliciting another breathy gasp as he raked them down his abdomen leaving behind red clawed flesh. They then played with Gale's happy trail before slipping under the waistband of his boxers and gripping the thick base of his throbbing member.

Peeta halted the trail of his lips down Gale's abdomen to retreat back up his chest to his neck, where he suckled Gale's trembling Adam's apple and then swiped his tongue up the salty stubbly skin to Gale's full lips. Gale at last unclenched his hands from the sheets, leaving them in a wrinkled clump, as he threaded his fingers through Peeta's hair and devoured the lips exposed to him.

Both men groaned in pleasure and release as their lips mashed, tongues brushed and teeth clacked. Peeta was more turned on than he had been in a long time. It felt right to be doing this. The connection of their lips like a lifeline to Peeta's heart reawakening it and infusing it with hope. Peeta stroked Gale's penis, rubbing his thumb across the slit and smearing it in the copious amount of pre-cum that had built up. Peeta withdrew his hand and pulled back from Gale. He held a sexually charged gaze with Gale while enveloping the pre-cum covered thumb with his mouth, sucking on it sinfully.

"Fuck, Peeta, I've wanted you for so long," Gale moaned. He pulled Peeta back in for another kiss.

Peeta jerked back, suddenly sober, like he'd just been doused in ice water. The sexual electricity in the room disappeared as Peeta shook his head and then sat up, pulling his legs into himself and away from Gale.

"I—I'm so sorry," He muttered into his kneecap.

Gale pawed the back of his neck feeling whiplashed by the rapid changes in Peeta's mood.

"It's okay Peeta, I wanted it. I've wanted it for so long," Gale explained with a sex-ravaged voice. He tried to reach out to Peeta, but he just backed up further until he was flat to the wall.

"No, it's not." Peeta shook his head as waves of guilt crashed over him, icing his skin and drenching him to the core. "I could never do that..."

Gale pulled back feeling stung. He searched for his shirt in Peeta's sheets, finding it and quickly pulling it on, feeling terribly vulnerable and exposed.

"Not to you." Peeta continued. He hoped he could explain it. He couldn't lose Gale. His mind just kept repeating it over and over. Not Gale. Not Gale. He tried to collect his scattered and drunken thoughts. "I w-would just be using you for sex. But I know it would mean more to you and that's not fair. I'm too fucked—fucked up to be a boyfriend and I value you too much to just use you, even if I wanted it too, even if I like you..."

"So if you want to then try! You'll never know until you do it," Gale tried to persuade, but Peeta just shook his head, still clutching his knees to his chest like a child.

"Maybe, but I'd just ruin it now. Possibly one day… I really would like—" A knock at the door interrupted him.

They both looked to the door uncertainly. Who could be out there at this hour? Gale, now standing by the bed, walked to the door and looked through the peephole.

"You got to be kidding me." He opened the door and Peeta craned his neck to see who had elicited that response from Gale. "What are you doing here?" Gale asked brusquely.

On the other side of the door stood Marvel with a duffle bad and an eager look on his face. Peeta bashed his head against the wall.

"Marvel you can't keep showing up unannounced! We're not together anymore!" Peeta shouted from his position on the bed.

Marvel didn't even look slightly disheartened by Peeta's words he just side-stepped Gale's domineering presence at the door and slipped into the room. Gale bristled with agitation. This was not the time for Marvel to make another impromptu visit. They never ended well anyways so it was beyond everyone's understanding why he kept trying to make it work.

"Come on, babe. I know you have Friday off, lets spend the long weekend together!" He threw his duffle bag on the empty desk chair and approached Peeta on the bed. He cocked his head and took in the sight before him. Peeta's rumpled sheets. Gale's breathless and agitated state. Peeta's blush. A frown flitted across his face before the smooth veneer retook its presence. "I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

Peeta glared at Marvel. He knew exactly what he was interrupting and now he was goading. It was almost as if he planned it.

"Please leave."

Gale came up behind Marvel and put his hand on his shoulder.

"You heard him. Get out." Gale left no room for debate. Peeta swelled with happiness. Gale was always protecting him and it felt good to know someone had his back. But then the guilt came rushing back when Marvel pivoted.

"Do not touch me." He twisted Gale's hand and threw it from his shoulder.

"Hey!" Peeta yelled in warning.

But it was too late as Gale cursed and then swung at Marvel, who was surprisingly fast and ducked. He then tackled Gale's midsection and slammed him into the opposing wall. A picture frame fell to the floor with a loud crash.

"Stop it!" Peeta shouted as he clambered off the bed.

Peeta had never seen Gale get into an altercation with anyone, verbal or otherwise. He was always so caring and thoughtful; it was disturbing to see Gale fight with his ex. They grunted and gripped each other as they tried to get the upper hand, throwing punches anytime there was an opening. Peeta charged at them and tried to pry Marvel off Gale.

"Get the fuck off him!"

Marvel slammed backwards and head butted Peeta in the nose. He wobbled dizzily and felt hot liquid running down his nose and lips.

"Peeta!" Both men shouted as they finally broke apart and rushed to his side.

He swatted both of them away, holding a hand to his nose and throwing Marvel's duffle bag at his gut, which he caught.

"Peeta I'm so sorry—"

"Just. GET. OUT!" He yelled, muffled, through his cupped hand.

Gale took charge again and shoved Marvel out by the back of his neck before he could get his wits about him. The last thing Peeta saw before Gale slammed the door in his face and bolted it was the look of confusion on Marvels face, it was not what he had expected to happened tonight at all. Peeta was just cutting people down left and right.

"Fuck, Peeta. Shit, fuck, shit!" He cussed as he stormed to his side of the room, stepping on the picture frame with a crunch.

Exhausted and overwhelmed by emotions, Peeta fell into his bed not even caring about trying to stop the bleeding of his nose. It throbbed tenderly against the touch of his hand, but otherwise didn't feel like anything was broken. He felt like he had been slowly bleeding out since last summer. The wound could never heal and the blood just dripped, slow and steady. With all the blood he lost it was starting to drown the love he once knew for Marvel. He jumped when Gale sat beside him with a wetted shirt.

"Here, let me…" He reached forward and pulled Peeta's hand from his face. He hissed at the sight of Peeta's already swollen and bruised nose. "Mother fucker."

Peeta knew that was directed at Marvel. He wondered if he was still outside the door waiting. He wasn't going to let his lingering feelings for Marvel guilt trip him into letting him back in. Gale held the shirt against his nose to absorb the blood and ran a hand soothingly up and down Peeta's back. Peeta marveled at him. Even leading him on, shutting him down and causing a fight between him and Marvel, Gale was still taking care of him.

"I don't deserve this," Peeta mumbled into the shirt.

Gale didn't respond. Instead he just shook his head and pulled Peeta into his side, resting his chin atop Peeta's head. They remained that way for a while before Peeta remembered just how drunk he was and that all he really wanted was sleep. In a surprising move Gale remained with Peeta in his bed for which he was thankful. Gale stroked Peeta's arm and cuddled him close until he faded from the waking world. Gale was undeniably the good guy. The one all the stories were written about. The one that deserved to get the boy. Peeta really wished he could be that boy.

* * *

Friday morning arrived bright an early thanks to the alarm I barely remembered to set before falling asleep in a cloud of smoke and a hazy weed-addled brain. The television was still on and Cartoon Network was playing now meaning I must have fallen asleep watching Adult Swim again. Which of course made me think of Gale. Why did my feelings always have to be so indecipherably complex? For once I wished I just knew what I really felt and that it was the truth, not what I thought I was supposed to feel based off of something pop culture told me. Was art imitating life anymore or were we now just imitating what we saw on TV or in the movies, incapable of separating what we truly felt from what emotions were invoked by watching other people act the scene? It was too complicated a thought for so early in the morning.

It was 7:30 am, so I had half an hour before Cato arrived. I rushed downstairs to eat a quick bowl of oatmeal and discovered a note taped to the refrigerator from Dad. It was just the number to the hotel he was staying at and the production manager's cell in case of emergencies. He must have left earlier in the morning. I felt a little miffed that he slipped out in the early dawn hours just to avoid me, but I couldn't say I didn't deserve it.

After a piping hot shower I received a text that Cato was on his way over. I had maybe five minutes before he got to my place. I stood naked before my closet trying to figure out what to wear. I wasn't sure why it mattered to me so much what I decided, but I felt like it was important. I tried tamping down the truth of my actions by telling myself it was because I was anxious of what Cato and I were about to do, but it was an anemic excuse.

Eventually I decided on wearing some fitted black jean shorts that rested just above my kneecaps and a multi-hued blue tank. I was just finishing styling my hair up in it's signature quiff when the doorbell rang signaling Cato's arrival. I put down the can of hair spray and held onto the cold tiled counter of my bathroom sink while I stared at my reflection. Bright blue eyes bore down on me from the mirror trying to make me grasp a truth I was not ready to face. I broke free from the battle of wills with the mirror when the doorbell rang a third time and my phone vibrated.

"COMING!"

Taking one last sweep of the room I snatched up my car keys, wallet and Ray Ban aviators before heading down to greet Cato. He was waiting for me on the porch leaning with crossed arms against one of the white columns in a simple gray v-neck and cargo shorts, foregoing his frat boy style from yesterday for a more relaxed look.

"You got me here, so what's this idea?" He questioned.

"Well I—ah, one second," I said as I paused to dig back into my tight pocket for my vibrating phone. I pulled it out and checked the screen to see Marvel was calling. I motioned with my head towards my jeep and Cato followed me to it as I answered. "Hey, Marvel."

"Hey. What's up?"

I buckled myself in and motioned to Cato to do the same.

"Not much, just running some errands. My dad left town to do some cooking show so I've got to take care of myself for a bit." I lied.

Cato turned in his seat to watch me now interested in why I would be lying to Marvel.

"Ah, gotcha. I just was wondering if you maybe wanted to hang, but maybe later?" He asked sounding hopeful.

"Yeah, maybe. Look I've got to go, bye Marv."

"Later—"

I hung up and then turned the ignition and began driving. Cato cleared his throat as if to remind me of his presence.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" He waited tolerantly for my answer.

"Well I didn't think Marvel needed to know what we were up to today. He would probably just worry or try to talk us out of it."

"And what's it we're doing?" He pushed.

"Oh, well uh, I think it's time we dealt with the root of our problem. What you said yesterday got me thinking and if we are ever going to be able to move on we need to face the consequences of our actions and the best way to do that lies in the Seam."

I turned the steering wheel to make a left onto Main Street, which would cut us through downtown and then hop on to the 156 to head straight to the Seam. It would be about a forty-minute drive through the mountains. I also avoided Cato's pressing gaze, as I didn't want to share more until we were there and he couldn't back out.

"That's it?" Cato huffed.

"For now."

He grumbled and then stuck a foot up on my dashboard. I swallowed the protest knowing he was just doing it to be obnoxious.

"Oh!"

I pulled out my cell and started texting as Cato watched me from the corner of his eye.

"You know man, it's illegal in California to use your phone while driving," He drawled with heavy sarcasm.

"Sorry, I just need to text this to Clove! Almost done…there! And I'm Peeta, not man."

I gave him a shot of my pearly whites as I dropped the phone in my lap. I realized I never told Clove how everything went with Cato yesterday so I sent her a quick text that I didn't think Cato was behind the post cards and that she should check out Johanna. She seemed as likely a candidate as Cato. She was an unknowing casualty of our actions and if she somehow found out about what happened it was plausible that she'd be more than pissed. My phone vibrated with a response. I checked her response between my legs, trying to be stealthy in front of Cato.

_Okay. Glim and I will check her out today. Enjoy your day with Cato._

A heated blush blossomed across my cheeks and throat uninvited. How did she know Cato was with me? We weren't doing anything wrong, but the thought of her knowing I was with him made me squirm in discomfort. As for Johanna I highly doubted she was behind this either, but we would be remiss to leave any stone unturned. If someone was truly serious about making us pay then we had to figure out whom it was before it was too late and lives were further ruined.

It was fairly evident we had entered the Seam once winding through the mountain pass into the valley the poverty stricken town inhabited. We took field trips to the town in middle school to observe the old fault line that ran through the eastern portion of the town. In 1958 an earthquake hit the region and the fault line actually split open the land in the valley here making for a cool attraction and educational experience for kids, but demolishing land values for the just growing town. Tremors rock the region every decade or so and remind people of the dangers of living so close to a fault line keeping property values low and its residents poor. When Panem Beach was growing in the fifties and into the sixties the Seam had hoped it would enjoy the population boom and growth, but unfortunately all that happened was the poorest of Panem quickly got pushed out of town and settled into the cheap trailer parks of the Seam. Panem Beach often feels the effects of the quakes too, but it won't ever have to contend with the fears of being at the epicenter of one of its earthquakes.

The Seam was dry and on the verge of being considered a desert. The current drought and heat wave were only exacerbating the problem. I always hated going into the valley as the mountains stifled the flow of air from the beach making for a dry heat and stagnant feeling atmosphere. The roads were often coated in a thin film of dust and the local vegetation was nothing much more than shrub palms and other species of what look like skeletal twigs.

The homes were an even sadder sight with sagged roofs and peeling paint. We passed a few condemned homes and spotted many more foreclosure signs. It was like a different world when compared to our hometown where the wealthy lived in undisturbed indulgence and luxury. Cato hadn't said much for most of the ride and I was perfectly content in letting the silence linger.

We turned off the main road into one of the many trailer parks that dotted the land. The jeep rode at a snails pace down the dusty unpaved roads of the park as I scanned the numbers on the doors of the mobile homes.

"Keep an eye out for number 17."

Cato helped me search out for the specific home we were looking for, but none of them seemed to be in any sort of order. It was like the owners had all decided to play a massive game of musical mobile homes and scrambled their locations. Ultimately Cato spotted it first. It was nestled in between 24 and 57. The mobile home was a faded pink in color and sat on cinderblocks instead of wheels. It was a sad fate and gave me a twinge of pain in my heart.

"So are you going to tell me what we're doing here?" Cato turned and watched me expectantly.

"This is the current residence of the Fields," I said licking my lips to stop them from chapping in the dry heat.

Scorching cobalt eyes snapped to look at me like the crack of a whip and I gripped the steering wheel tight to stave off a violent flinch.

"What?" Cato demanded. His head shot around to give the mobile home a once over.

"His sister should be home. I connected with her on Facebook a while back and have kept tabs on her since. I figure if we ever want to close this chapter of our lives we need to face it… and that's as far as I've thought it out." I shrugged my shoulders up to my ears and gave him a humbled expression with knitted brows.

"Oh this is just fucking great," Cato grunted. He started clawing at his forearms nervously and then muttered, "I wouldn't even know what to do…"

I put a hand on his knee and he looked at me with questioning eyes hoping I could show him how to proceed. But this was outside of my wheelhouse just as much as it was his. Since I had just talked to Gale I had tried imagining what he would do and the most obvious thought was of how he would push me to confront my problems. He may not know what they are, but he could always see through my diversionary tactics and call me on my shit. So this was I trying to call us on our shit.

"Lets see if Ruth is in," I got out of my car and joined Cato on the other side where he frowned at the mention of the name Ruth. I explained. "She goes by that now."

Sensing my hesitation Cato rapped against the grimy screen door three times. I could here someone moving about in the small mobile home and saw the blinds on the window to my right move. Then the door groaned on its rusted hinges as it opened inwards. Ruth stood separated from us by the screen door in a cream color and floral designed frock that bared quite a mount of cleavage and well-worn brown boots. Her russet toned skin glowed suggesting a fresh shower and her black hair was braided into pigtails, giving her a startling look of a young woman struggling to shed her childhood image.

"I'm not buying and no ya'll can't come back later when a parent's home."

Cato and I glanced at each other taken aback by her hostile tone. She still held the southern twang in her voice from her original hometown outside Atlanta. When neither of us spoke I stepped forward.

"I'm Peeta and this is my friend Cato. We went to Capitol Prep with your brother. Do you mind if we come in?" I said.

She narrowed her brown eyes and raked them over both Cato and I in a disconcerting fashion, sizing us up and making a harsh snap judgment.

"I suppose… But I have work soon and I can't have ya'll here." She gave a push against the screen door and then walked away signaling we were welcome to enter.

The interior was surprisingly well kept. They may have been struggling with poverty, but took pride in making due with the cards they were dealt. Ruth motioned for us to take a seat on the small couch while she asked if we wanted a drink. We both declined her offer. I tried not to notice the discolored bruise on her inner thigh, which was flashed at me when she took a seat opposite us and crossed her legs. I started to sweat. This was beginning to feel like a terrible decision. It was already too much. The sight of where she lived with her mother and two younger brothers in this tiny two-bedroom mobile home, the implications of her bruising—

"So, how can I help you two? Not many people drop by from our days back in Panem as you may guess," She said depressingly.

I coughed uncomfortably and Cato shifted in the cramped space next to me. Neither of us knew how to proceed or what to say.

"Well in truth we came by to apologize," I managed to say and it felt true on my tongue. I may not have known what I was exactly seeking by coming here in the first place, but an apology felt like a step in the direction of making amends.

"I don't understan'…"

Cato leaned forward; resting his arms against his thighs, and finally spoke.

"It's difficult for us to understand too, Ruth, but we—_I _felt like I needed to apologize for the way I treated your brother. We never got along in high school and I think we enjoyed seeing how far we could push things…" Cato looked to be grasping at the disjointed thoughts in his mind, trying to find the best way to put descriptors to his feelings. "It was fucked up and never should have gone as far as it did. I—I feel some responsibility for—well I can't help but think more could have been done to prevent what happened."

Ruth gripped the base of her chair as she listened to Cato's words, exposing her tensed tendons. I sat motionless, unable to find the words that could soothe her plagued expression. Besides this was really more important for Cato, I was just hoping that by helping Cato I could also find healing.

"Why are ya'll doing this now?" She demanded, wiping a resentful tear from her eye.

Cato raked his nails against the skin of his forearm and I knew he was losing his resolve. The only thing I could think of was to delicately lean my shoulder into his hoping the contact would calm his mind. When the exposed skin of my shoulder pressed up against the thin cotton of his t-shirt and ghosted across the skin of his bicep I felt the tautness in his body lighten.

"Well it took some growing up before I could see the picture clearly. I realize now I have to take responsibility for my actions," Cato said.

Ruth shook her head and her braided pigtails flopped against her exposed shoulders.

"Don't think I don't know who you are. Your Clove's ex-boyfriend. I'd just started freshman year when you's were seniors. I know everything about your rivalry, _Cato,_" She said his name with a deliberately harsh enunciation of the consonants in his name. Her southern dialect became more pronounced the angrier she got. "But you're digging up a past my family would much rather forget. And in case _you_ have forgotten he's da fucker with anger issues who raped your girlfriend. It really is beyond me why ya'll would try to make apologies for him in anything he did. He _ruined_ everythin'!"

It felt like a slap in the face. Her words were filled with such anguish and festering resentment towards her brother that it shocked me to bear witness. Cato pressed back into the couch with the pressure of her words and everyone fell silent. I felt my chest flooding with panicked emotions and the full weight of the damage graduation night reaped on everyone.

"I understand your anger, but the way I treated Thresh in high school was unacceptable and I need to atone for that. You are the closest I can get to doing that," Cato spoke calm and collected. It was unnerving to see him so in control of his emotions when I felt like a roadside bomb had just been detonated and our gruesome injuries were on full display wreaking bloody havoc.

Ruth stood abruptly, knocking her chair backwards, but in the small confined space of the mobile home there was nowhere for it to go so it just tipped against the cheap paneling of the wall.

"You need to leave. Now. It's been over a year and that's not near 'nough time to heal. Get out! Please," Ruth begged with vehemence.

We stood from the cramped couch and quickly made our way to the door. I remained silent, still unable to find the words to speak that could express how I felt to her or make up for the scabs of an old wound we had just scraped open.

"I'm sorry for the pain our visit caused," Cato said as we exited.

When the screen snapped shut behind us we both heard the muffled cry that escaped from inside. I fell into Cato and realized maybe I wasn't ready to confront my problems after all. I was not strong or well equipped enough to deal with it yet. I was just as much a coward now as I was then. Except only moments before getting here the tables had been turned and I was leading the show and Cato was trembling at the thought of facing his demons.

Cato's hand snaked around my back and I fell into the comfort and security of it, but it had other intention as it crept into my pocket. I searched his face for explanation and he withdrew the car keys from my shorts, dangling them in my face.

"I'll drive."

Grateful for him taking control, I slipped into the passenger seat, buckled my seatbelt and rested my head against the strap that ran up past my right shoulder. I felt the burning in my eyes, but I clamped down on it because I was done crying over this. It was just quite the shock to be confronted with another unintended consequence. The Fields family was deeply traumatized and fled town to rid themselves of the shame of Thresh, winding up poorer than they started in the Seam. I watched in the side mirror Ruth's mobile home faded from view as Cato drove.

Just under an hour later Cato parked the car right in front of the path leading up to my front door. With the rumble of the car engine now extinguished the silence that had lingered since departing the Seam felt unbearable. Having been stewing in my own anguish the whole ride I suddenly felt unsure of myself. Had this been a good idea? Did it help Cato at all? I should have paid attention for clues as to his mental state, but instead I continued to selfishly focus on my problems.

"Thanks, man, for forcing me to do that. I think it was the right thing to do. Hard, but right," Cato said now facing me.

"Oh, yeah, _man._ I'm glad it did you good." I teased with a smile etching its way across my face. I had done something right and I couldn't deny it made things a little better. "Wanna hang for a bit? I have some weed and my dad's gone."

I do not know why I felt so vulnerable after asking that question, but for a reason unbeknownst to me I worried what his answer might be.

"Yeah, _dude_," Cato paused and gave me a crooked smirk. I rolled my eyes and got out of the car. "Work's still not for another few hours."

"Cool. Hopefully my dad left some good munchies in the house." I rubbed my stomach as I thought about food.

Sometime later Cato and I were sunken into the plush cushions of my couch like a ton of bricks, a curtain of smoke hung in the air around us, and the television was playing an episode of Homeland. Apparently it was Cato's favorite show and guilty pleasure (although it had won an Emmy if I remembered correctly, so I don't know why he felt so guilty about liking it). There was also an array of foods left open on the coffee table from bags of chips to pizza bagels and Oreos.

I was finding myself sucked into the intricate plot and when the episode ended I only just realized the position we had relaxed into on the couch. When we had started out on the couch we both sat next to each other, passing the joint I had rolled. Cato with his massive frame commanded a wide swath of the couch, especially when he spread his legs wide to give his balls more breathing room. Eventually his wide spread leg came to rest against my left thigh and I had coughed particularly hard on my hit from the joint. He had laughed and smacked my back. As the episode played and the plot slowly consumed us I allowed myself to relax. Now the show was over and at some point during the episode I had moved to rest my head against the armrest of the couch and splayed my body out the length of the couch, my legs resting across Cato's compact thighs. His right hand was absentmindedly playing with the hemline of my shorts and the only thought running through my mind was how close Cato's hand was to grazing my inner thigh.

I fought the urge to remove my feet, instead keeping my relaxed position and forcing the decision of whether we let this continue or not on Cato's shoulders. But Cato didn't seem any bit put off by the positions we had taken. I was definitely stoned as I noticed the weight that had settled around my sinus cavity, a strong vibrating pressure, although it was not uncomfortable or disruptive. All of this reminded me of how it was with Gale, easy and relaxed, no demands or expectations.

We remained like that for a while longer. The sun came in through the western windows in horizontal golden lines from the blinds as it moved to greet the ocean. It cast a sepia tone over the room like a scene from an independent film. Cato's fingers fidgeted with my shorts and skimmed every now and then against the skin of my inner thigh. I leaned forward to pick up the joint from the coffee table. It was almost gone, but we had saved the last bit to smoke a little later. I re-lit the tip and inhaled. Then I repositioned myself so I was sitting cross-legged facing Cato. He carefully reached delicately for the roach so as not to burn either of us and his thumb and forefinger brushed against mine. Once he had a grip on it my hands quickly fell back into my lap and away from him. He took a long drag and then sat it triumphantly on the table.

"I think that suckers done."

Maybe it was the weed that had broken the barriers in my brain. Maybe it was because we had been spending so much time together and the comfortable companionship we slipped into lulled me into a sense of security. Maybe it was because of the connection we shared, which created some bubble of safety where I felt I could let my guard down. Either way I could feel the words forming and settling in the pit of my stomach, waiting to be shared. Yet I knew once it was spoken out loud the bubble would burst and there'd be no going back, but I couldn't seem to care. It was inappropriate, but inevitable. I wanted it known, spoken and the lightheadedness from the pot kept my mind singularly focused on the fact that I wanted this shared now. I wanted it gone from my mind and I didn't want any untruths between us. And so I finally let the words fly from the tip of my nervous tongue and settle in the air between us waiting for his judgment.

"I used to have a major crush on you."

I watched Cato's expression like a doctor monitoring a patient, watching and waiting for any change that may clue me in to his condition. His face remained unreadable. He observed me with probing eyes, probably wondering what had brought this on. I tried to keep my emotions from dancing across my face and giving me away.

"I thought you loved Marvel."

It's not the response I thought I was going to get, but it was so much better than the myriad negative reactions that raced through my brain like a blitzkrieg. We were both corrupted; maybe the path to redemption rested in the others hands?

"Well I do—did. I had a crush on both of you, but I tried to stifle it not wanting to freak you out. You were too important to me as a friend," I whispered, unsure why I was sharing all of this now. I licked my lips ready to continue when I saw Cato's eye's dart down to stare at my mouth.

I held back the words on the tip of my tongue in surprise. Then I swiped my tongue across my full bottom lip just a little bit slower this time. Cato's eyes never left the sight of my mouth. I trembled at the edge of a cliff. Was I really going to jump?

"I'm n-not—do you still?" He asked in a husky voice. He was inclined ever so slightly towards me and I found him more intoxicating than the weed we had just smoked.

"Huh?" I grunted.

"Do you still have a crush on me?" He clarified.

I licked my lips nervously this time and Cato tried to fight it, but his eyes were inexorably pulled back to my lips like a magnet. I knew what the answer was to his question, but I couldn't form the words to respond. The filter that had long been in place in my brain kept plucking the words from my mind before I could repeat them.

The golden hue of the room cast everything in an angelic glow. Cato's tanned skin shined like a precious stone and his cobalt eyes became heavy lidded in the thickening atmosphere; much like we were sitting in a vat of molasses, our motions were slowed and my limbs felt heavy. Cato lurched forward in a slow-motion jolted movement and I filled my lungs with a sudden gust of air. Our eyes held onto each other like they were our life vests and we were deep out at sea. I angled my head up towards his as he pressed forward and down unto me. His breath ghosted against my wetted lips and I inhaled the aroma of it, mostly barbeque scented from the potato chips we had been eating, but also a distinct flavor all his, saccharine and invigorating.

Our lips were mere centimeters from each other and I could barely clamp down on the bristling tension that built up within my chest like an inflating balloon on the verge of bursting. His fist clenched and unclenched beside me like he was unsure of lacing it through my hair or not.

"Peeta, I…" He trailed off as his top lip gently grazed against mine with the lightness of a feather, tickling almost.

Were we going to? Could it be? I held back and waited for the final push, wanting it to come from him. I felt like we were suspended in time, waiting for the spell to be broken by his lips pressing against mine. Suddenly his tensed fist pounded into the back supporting cushion of the couch. His lips might as well have been miles from my own as he pulled back and stood up.

"No, you're with Marvel. I'm with Clove—it happened, she left me, I'm—we're—gone, gone, gone—Peeta..." He said before clamping his mouth shut and shaking his head, disoriented by his scrambled speech.

I could see the fear in his eyes. I reached out to him, but he pushed my hand away.

"Cato, what are you talking about? What's going on?" I was genuinely confused and worried. What was happening to him?

"…I'm sorry. I n-need to go," He said and then ran from the room.

Before I even had the chance to stand and chase him I heard the front door open and close. I remained seated on the couch in a flurry of extreme emotions, hope crashing in on despair, confusion mingling with worry. What had just happened? One minute we were about to kiss—at least I thought, hoped, so—the next moment he was rambling incoherently and fleeing from my premises.

After trying to call him and only reaching his voicemail I decided to give him some space. Maybe I shouldn't have revealed my stupid crush on him. It was ridiculous of me to think that getting that off my chest would offer some type of resolution. I had strayed too far from my rule of coming on to straight men with disastrous results. I ended up fighting one guy and causing another to run from my house like it was on fire. I just wanted to be honest with him. I thought after working on mending the damage we wrought on graduation night that we were growing closer. I had wrongly convinced myself that the connection we shared could be segued into something more. I was wrong, so wrong.

**As always, lets make sure to give me some incentive! I just LOVE to hear from you and what you think is going on. Until next time.**

**Xoxo,**

**~ crobb07**


	7. Have You Seen Molly?

**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It's another big one and hopefully it will have been worth the wait. This chapter has a lot of fun elements. And surprising twists maybe? Well go read and review!**

Have You Seen Molly?

The sound of thundering feet chased after Clove like a stampede. A lightning storm out as sea flickered light in sharp spurts across the dark landscape; illuminating and then bathing the land in consuming darkness. Almost like someone was flipping a light switch repeatedly. She pushed herself forwards as fast as she could, but her short legs just couldn't keep up the bruising speed that required her to outpace her pursuer. His even and practiced breaths were easily distinguished as he gave chase. He wasn't even breaking a sweat like some bionic man, inhumanly perfect in his athleticism and lack of emotion. Clove raced through the abandoned boardwalk. Everyone was gone and the security lights cast weak and fearful shadows, which she dodged as if they too were the enemy.

"HELP! He's going to kill me! Please someone help!" Clove screamed with a raspy voice as she thudded down the wooden planked pier.

The rumbling collision of the waves could be heard below her feet as she ran frantically door-to-door looking for someone who might still be at work, someone that could save her. But her pursuer continued to charge after her like a rampaging bull at a rodeo, solely focused on the red sheet dangled tantalizingly before it. Clove was that red sheet and the bull only saw blood. Her blood spilled across the wooden beams of the pier, spattered about the sterile glass windows of the high-end restaurants and shops, staining and spoiling everything.

Lightning crackled across the sky in long arcs dousing the pier in quick and successive white light. Each bolt disoriented and blinded. Clove tripped upon an uneven beam of wood. She turned to look back, but her attacker was nowhere to be seen although it was hard to tell, as the world was revealed to her in a stilted vision of clarity and blackness from the strobe lightning. She stood trembling and clutching herself.

A force tackled her from the left and tumbled them both over the rails of the pier into the turbulent sea below. In a brilliant crack of light the attackers face was revealed before they plunged into the inky black ocean. Clove tore at Cato's back as he held her and they sank like a stone dropped in the water. Up became down, left was right, the sandy ocean bed the sky above them, no way out of the frigid water.

Cato's grasp on Clove evaporated as she disappeared in a flash of water warped light. But he continued to sink, a gravitational force pulling him down deeper and deeper. No matter how hard he struggled he couldn't kick his way back to the surface. Dark red blood blossomed around him in thick tendrils that swayed and swirled about in the currents. He coughed for air. He thrashed amongst the blood and bubbles of his exhaled breath. Each bubble before him reflected back an image of someone he knew.

"You broke my heart. _You_ drove me to this!" Clove's shrill voice burst forth from the bubble holding her smarting image.

Peeta's likeness drifted into view. He floated naked and distorted by the spherical shape of the air bubble before popping.

"I thought you were the perfect man, but someone like you could never be perfect."

The sneering face of Thresh exploded before Cato with a shout and more blood, blowing Cato to the surface with his scathing words:

"I fucked her good. Like a _real_ man would."

Cato washed ashore face down in the sand getting a mouth full of the fine granules. He noticed his dad seated at an exquisitely set table where he sipped his expensive red wine and remained ignorant of his son. Cato tried to lift himself up when his hand touched something smooth and cold. His eyes rested upon the porcelain white doll half buried in the sand. A bare foot stepped on his hand touching the doll. He looked up into the eyes of his mother. She bore down on him with a rabid expression like a mad dog, her eyes wild and her teeth grinding, her frizzy blonde locks a nightmare of secrets.

"The dolls talk. They tell wonderful stories. You just have to listen," She whispered childlike in his ear with humid breath before placing her teeth carefully around his earlobe like she was placing a fine delicacy between her lips. "Join us," Her voice muffled around his ear much like a child trying to talk with its mouth full. Then she threw her head back and the flesh tore from Cato in white-hot fire.

"NO!" Cato screamed awake in his bed violently thrashing against the serpentine sheets that tried to constrict him before he realized he was home, in bed, and alone. He threw his sheets from the bed and groped his ear to make sure it was still there. He spread eagle to cool down his sweat drenched body. He struggled to reign in his wild mind. He wouldn't let it control him. It wasn't true. He was stronger than that. He began practicing his meditative techniques. The only sounds remaining in his oversized mansion were that of his rapid breath and the tick of the grandfather clock down the hall.

* * *

"Open up!" An overly enthusiastic voice bellowed from outside my door while incessantly ringing the doorbell.

I flew down the stairs to greet my belligerent guest only to stop the relentless melody of the doorbell. I was in no mood for whatever game the person was playing having just spent all evening sulking over Ruth and Cato. I wrenched the door open and put on my best bitch face ready to yell except what I found silenced me.

"Hey slut bread!" Johanna greeted.

On the other side of the door Johanna stood impatiently waiting with a hand resting on a jutted out hip accentuating the curve of her body. Her short spiky brown hair-do was highlighted with streaks of neon yellow and green. Her hazel eyes were framed by a diamond stud at each corner and extended fake eyelashes that were lime green and glittery. She wore a skintight white tube top dress that turned to white mesh in the center baring her midriff with a red biohazard symbol painted on it and topping it all off was a chunky green necklace and hot pink flats. She looked like someone with a highlighter fetish attacked her.

"Uh… What is all of this?" I motioned my hand up and down her body with an appraising eye.

"We're going out tonight!" She squealed in an uncharacteristically girly voice as she pushed her way in carrying a bag of goodies.

"Sure, come on in Johanna," I muttered to myself.

When I shut the door and turned around she was already at the top of the stairs and headed to my room.

"We have half an hour before the girls show up! So get yo ass up here!" She called over her shoulder.

Fearful was how I felt. Johanna always managed to find some trouble for us to get involved in. Her showing up in such a flamboyant outfit didn't bode well for the direction of the quiet evening in I had been planning on having. When I reached my bedroom the contents of Johanna's bag were splayed out on my bed. It included various tubes of bright colored paints, dozens of packages of glow sticks, hair products, and neon accessories.

"Joney? What kind of mayhem do you have planned?"

She turned from digging through my closet with a Cheshire Cat's grin plastered across her angular face. Yep fear, definitely fearful.

"Well Glim and Clove paid me a visit at work today and I convinced them we could use a good night out. Just us girls," She saw the resentful look on my face and amended, "And gay of course!" Then she turned back to rummaging through my closet and tossing different articles on the floor in piles with a flippant maybe, gross, or _what the fuck?_

"Hey! Stop that!" I yelled bending over to pick the clothes back up only to have them swatted from my hands and thrown back in a heap on the floor.

"No. I'm trying to find you a very specific outfit because this is a very specific rave we're going to; DJ Biohazard is performing at District One. It's going to be insane!" She said like that explained everything, which it would if I kept up with DJ's and the party circuit scene like she did with the dedicated passion of a disciple. Music was her God, the club her temple and dancing her prayer.

"Okay, but why are you throwing so much of my stuff on the floor?"

She turned back around to face me in a huff and a wide flourish of her hands. It might have been hard to take her serious with the neon marker colored hair and gaudy eyelashes, but she had a far more practiced bitch face than I that could probably turn a man to stone.

"Some things are just god awful in this closet and should be burned. Others are a maybe to be worn tonight. I hope you take my advice with the burn pile," She said and then twisted back into my closet.

I had to admit that most of the clothes she was throwing away were from my days in high school. I would like to think I grew into a much better sense of fashion in the past year and the lack of any of my new clothing in the piles was hopefully evident of that. While she tried to figure out whatever terrible idea of an outfit she was going to put me in I still had another question.

"And by your singular use of gay do you just mean me? When dos this thing start? It's after eleven," Well maybe multiple questions as I checked my watch.

"Yes, no Marvel and no Cato because Clove declared she'd only go if it was a no ex's affair. And midnight, they rented the space until 6 am!" She shouted from my closet before pulling back out with a triumphant, "Aha!"

She held before me the article of clothing she had found and I gulped realizing she planned to make tonight's outing one for the record books. I re-analyzed all the supplies she had bought and how everything was a big production. She was investing a lot of herself into this as a last ditch attempt to mend our broken friendships. And so I sucked up my pride, stored away the sulkiness and put on my game face because tonight we were going out and I was going to forget about all my stupid problems, for Johanna.

* * *

The lights pulsated in time with the music. Yellow and red lights flickered across the throbbing masses. Green lasers zigged and zagged across the glittering and neon dressed dance floor. The black lights made the whites in our clothing pop in iridescent blues. Fog blasted from the ceiling in harsh spurts coating the dance floor in a multi-hued cloud of smoke. Red and black paints spattered across the backs and faces of the revelers as they tossed them about in a hedonistic craze. Some wore masks: white blank faced rabbits with tall ears; clear plastic masks that distorted the wearer's image; grey elephant trunks stripped with bright oranges. I stood mashed between Clove and Glimmer on the dance floor waving our glow sticks with wild abandon.

The stage was elaborately dressed with flashing light fixtures, fluttering black ribbons strung from the ceiling and embossed with neon green skull cross symbols for toxic, dancers in various stages of undress that undulated lithely with sculpted abdomens and bared cleavage; and at the center of it all a large table where DJ Biohazard was spinning his wordless electro-rave music. He wore, as one might guess, a gas mask typical of those entering a biohazard, which obscured most of his face. The dancers moved in choreographed harmony with the beat of the song and helped pump up the patrons. They also wore gas masks; their glow sticks weaving intricate patterns in the air.

Clove surprised me. She had shown up in a black sleeveless hoodie, eschewing the neon color theme and refusing to be marked with the bright colored paints like Glim, Johanna and I were. Yet here she was on the dance floor letting loose and flowing seamlessly with the music. We had all been nervous and awkward in the car ride from my place to the Capitol Boardwalk, but once we entered District One the hyped rave atmosphere consumed us and ate away at our barriers like a fast acting acid.

Jumping and bumping, Glim and I gripped each other's hands and shared a mischievous smile as we rejoiced in the simple mindlessness of clubbing together. Glimmer wore a hot purple bikini top and a sheer white wrap around her purple bikini bottom. Her tanned and sharply sculpted stomach was also marked with the biohazard symbol and her blonde hair over zealously painted by me in pinks and reds.

I wore a pair of shredded white jean shorts that were probably too small for me since I had used them for a white-trash themed day at school sophomore year. But the black lights of the club made them pop and drew attention to the curve of my ass and rode low on my hips, tantalizingly displaying the dimples above my buttocks. The white jean shorts were then splattered by Glimmer and Clove with blues and yellows while I wore one of my older black tanks that the girls had cut gashes into scandalously revealing the edge of a nipple or the hint of my happy trail and painted abdomen. We looked ridiculous and yet overtly sexual. The rest of the crowd we danced among dressed similarly, some going even further in their designs with eccentric costumes that could have been pulled from a neon end of days.

Johanna had been grinding with a shirtless Abercrombie model type when she bounced back over to us and motioned towards the bar. The girls and I fought our way through the sweaty bodies and fog until we reached the counter.

"I found Molly!" Johanna gushed. She had to shout to be heard over the music.

I wasn't sure what she meant, but Glimmer squealed excitedly and I had an idea it was a drug.

"Oooh! Who shared?"

"Carl? John? Something generic, it doesn't matter, here." She held her hand out with four small pill capsules filled with white powder and continued talking loudly, "I suggest you empty it into a drink and take it that way."

Glimmer turned to the nearest bartender.

"Four shots of Stoli please!" Glim shouted to the bartender. By the end of the night we were all going to have sore throats from screaming to be heard.

I twitched and tried to turn away, but it was too late. He saw me. Finnick was working the bar tonight. Great, just what I needed. I really didn't want any drama tonight. I just wanted to have fun with the girls and loose my mind in the music. I didn't want to think of boys or my fucked up feelings or the fool I made of myself the other night at the dive bar. My knuckles were still bruised. I contorted my face in a pained expression and he inclined his head just the slightest towards me in acknowledgement before making the shots and high-tailing it to the other side of the bar as fast as he could. Not a word was exchanged.

"Oh he was cute! And he gave them to me for free! I wonder if he's single?" Glimmer asked.

"No!" I shouted and she flinched. "I'm sorry. I mean why try to waist time working the bartender when everyone will be fighting for his attention. You could have any guy you want on the dance floor."

She grinned and agreed. Then Johanna passed a small pill to each of us and a shot of vodka. I watched Clove to see what she did and was surprised again when she popped the pill open and dumped the white powdery contents into the shot. Okay it looked like we were all going to get high on Molly tonight. I had never done the drug before, but I wasn't opposed. I just didn't think I would be doing it tonight, but then as my eyes took one more survey of the room and it's overload of stimulation I couldn't think of a better place to experience it.

Straightening my back I braced myself for the bitter shot, never having been the best at downing a shot in one gulp. Glasses clinked, obligatory cheers made, and then the substance was hitting the back of my throat. It burned the whole way down and I swallowed multiple times to try and push the taste from my mouth.

"Yuck!" Glim cried.

Clove coughed into her arm as I cringed bitterly with rigid shoulders until the shock subsided. Johanna just watched us with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Fuckin' pussies," She gloated like a tough bitch.

"It was the Molly, it made it taste like bitter medicine!" Glimmer protested.

I had to agree the shot was unusually foul and that had to be the cause. Clove turned back to the bar.

"Gin and tonic," She ordered.

Luckily it was a different bartender, as Finnick was now going to make sure he avoided me, so I ordered one too. After paying we turned back to Johanna and Glimmer who were giggling and flirting with two guys on the balcony above the dance floor. Well Glimmer demurred with her long lashes while Johanna basically eye-fucked them and licked her lips salaciously. She was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

"Christ, some things never change," I laughed to Clove.

"Ain't that the truth," Clove grinned.

"How long till the Molly takes effect you think?"

"No idea, never done the stuff," She shrugged.

"So Joney roped you guys into going out when you visited her?"

Clove turned to face me as we leaned against the bar, Glimmer and Johanna having decided to go meet their newest admirers. She shrugged again.

"Yeah, well it was pretty obvious she still has no clue what happened to us and Glimmer's looking for any excuse not to have to face it so she jumped at Joney's plans."

"I think we're all running from the past…" I trailed off.

I wasn't sure but something seemed to be happening. It was like I had the channel from regular to HDTV. The room seemed sharper, the colors crisper and more vibrant. And the sounds! They were clearer and reverberated deep in my soul compelling my body to move. Clove leaned into the side of me and I jumped from the contact, similar to a static shock, but not painful, just an overload of my sensation of touch. My nerve endings felt raw and heightened, perceptive to the slightest change in the atmosphere. I felt as everything began to build up like a soda can shook up and all the pressure contained with no were to escape. I wanted to jump, dance, sing and laugh. I hadn't felt this happy in a long time. It was disconcerting how quickly the storm inside me had been calmed. Revealed to be just a distraction from the important things in life. Like happiness, friendship, love.

"Hahaha!" Clove giggle like the chiming of bells. It was rapturous.

"You feel it too?" I asked in a rush of words. It was like I consumed ten Red Bull's and I couldn't talk and express everything I was thinking and feeling fast enough. There was so much inside me to share!

"Peeta, I'm so happy!" She threw her head back and laughed freely.

I reached out and touched her again and it was spine tingling, like touching ice and fire at once. Her dilated pupils mostly hid the topaz color of her eyes. I wondered what I looked like, demonic with obsidian eyes?

"I know it's crazy! I just—just want to tell everyone I love them! I don't say it enough. You know I love you Clove, you were—_are_ a great friend!" I held intense contact with her eyes, needing her to know I meant it. This was the single most important thing I was saying and it had to be understood. She had to grasp it.

"I totally love you too, Peeta! We really need to stay in touch better," She gushed just as enthusiastically. Her face seemed to be glowing with the positive energy we were exuding.

"We should find the others. I want to dance!" I shouted. The guy nearest the bar to us turned to stare like we were freaks. I puckered my lips and winked at him before dancing away with Clove's hand in mine. What the hell? Love is love!

"You think the others are feeling it yet like we are?" Clove asked as we pushed our way towards the dance floor.

I didn't answer, figuring if we found them we'd know. Glimmer and Johanna were sure to be out on the floor with their newest conquests. DJ Biohazard was playing a spirited new beat that was riling up the energetic crowd and soon people were jumping in time with it. Every time a body jolted into my own it sent a shiver throughout my body as my senses worked on overload to interpret all the stimuli. The lights and lasers flashed around us dizzyingly and pulled my focus from the task at hand. Molly made it hard to concentrate on anything other than my feelings. The crowd bounced and jostled us around until I was separated in the pulsating sea of bodies from Clove.

Searching for Glim and Johanna was like trying to find a needle in a haystack and now Clove was separated from me too. But truthfully I didn't mind. I just freed my mind from the shackles I had enslaved it to for the past year and let the euphoria run rampant contaminating all crevices of my brain. I was a tingling mass of nerve-endings alive and bristling with electricity at the slightest touch or brush of air. The glow sticks on my wrists became the single most interesting thing I had ever seen. My body flowed like silk seamlessly to the music as everyone jumped and bumped to the DJ's tunes. I spun and wove patterns with my wrists, the pink and blue sticks glowing through the air like a radioactive substance. I was seeing colors in my mind. They were everywhere and in dramatic HD brilliance.

Hands tossed up and thrown about with out care. Hips swayed to a never-ending beat that flowed from one song to the next with out interruption. I never wanted the ecstasy to leave. This was how life should be. Every movement had a purpose and felt right. Everything was beautiful and thrilling. Worries faded from sight in the rear view mirror like they should, because it was the past and it couldn't touch me.

Time had no meaning. It passed by with out my knowledge. Each song transformed into the next with out warning keeping me pressed against unknown souls on the dance floor as we all touched and twirled, bumped and grinded together. It was an orgy of limbs and colors. Sex was meaningless. Guys touched guys, girls kissed, everyone exposed precious flesh and the smell of sweat was pungent and intoxicating. I closed my eyes and inhaled the environment I had been thrust into inadvertently.

Moments turned to minutes to hours and I opened my eyes realizing I had been separated from my friends for maybe too long. I was still lost in the exhilaration of the molly, but I wanted to share in it with my friends. I was a sweaty and dehydrated mess. My hair clung to my soaked forehead and my tank was drenched, the cotton sticking to my back. I turned in place and stood on the tip of my toes trying to see above the crowd and spot my friends, but my height worked to my disadvantage. A familiar sensation tickled the back of my neck and I swiveled in place trying to spot a face I knew.

That's when I saw a man dressed all in black maybe ten people from where I stood on the dance floor. I had no idea who he was as his face was concealed in the shadow of a dark hoodie, but I could tell he was staring directly at me. I stood paralyzed by the man's intense black and soulless stare. A shiver ran down my body like a million tiny spiders scurrying with their eight hairy legs down the entire length of my spine. The person cocked his head and the flash of a strobe light revealed in clear detail the mask the man wore beneath his hood. Lot's of people were wearing masks at the club tonight, but this one was different. It looked like a baby doll face and was porcelain white with ruby red lips and spider-webbing fractures on the right cheek. It was a disturbing image that stood displaced between neon colors and throbbing bodies.

Someone fell into me and I was pushed forward abruptly. I gripped the girl in front of me tightly and apologized as I regained my bearings. Then I looked up and the figure was gone. I was disturbed. I tried to find the person again, but there was too much stimulation with the lights and the loud music and so many fucking people.

Suddenly the tune changed as DJ Biohazard threw the rave into a post-apocalyptic nightmare. The club was thrown into a dark shade of red. The song that was playing was dark and had a deep bass that thrummed menacingly. The crowd began to vibrate with a building tension. I tried to fight off my growing nerves unsuccessfully. I swept the sweat from my brow, blocking my vision momentarily. When I looked up again the porcelain masked man was closer. He was moving toward me. He was determined. He wanted to devour my soul. If he got to me there would be nothing left.

A blast of fog sprayed down from the ceiling blanketing everything in a cloud of thick and cold smoke tinged blood red by the lights. I couldn't see. I felt like I couldn't breathe. The man in the mask disappeared from sight along with everything else. It was like I was completely alone in a sea of thick billowing red fog. I could barely see past my nose. Eerie neon lights floated and glowed at varying distances from all the glow sticks. I jumped when the song that had been building menacingly in the background burst forth with a loud blaring siren and disturbing sounds of a protest or riot. Strobe lights started flashing in quick and successive bursts that further disoriented me. The fog was thinning but everything was still bathed in a muted red. The lights flickered and everything moved in stilted stop-motion movements.

The porcelain doll masked man was shown to be a few people from me now in a flash of brilliant white light. Then we were thrown into darkness again. I put my hands out in terror as I tried to fight off the approaching man. Another flash. The man was gone. More blasts of the siren, the riotous subtext of the song grew louder and I turned in the opposite direction. I tried to fight my way out of the crowded dance floor, but they thrashed violently to the music and I was imprisoned. More flashing strobe lights. The masked man was revealed mere feet in front of me. His emotionless mask bearing down on me with a crushing gravity. The red lights blew up brighter and harsher bathing everything in a terrifying blood color. The man stalked towards me. Then everything went dark. The only lights visible were the glow sticks attached to people's wrists and necks.

I panicked. Everyone was screaming and jumping to the ambulatory siren sound. Had the world ended? It was insane. I couldn't get my bearings. Which way would lead me out of the crowd? Who was this man and which way would lead me from him? I pushed and shoved against people in growing panic, trying to put as much distance between the masked man and I. More fog dropped in thick choking blankets from the ceiling. The black lights came back on revealing in iridescent blue hues the whites everyone was wearing.

"AH!" I screamed hoarsely.

A man was right in front of me, his white mask purple in the black light. I pushed him and he cussed at me.

"What the fuck dude?"

He was wearing one of the white rabbit masks. He backed away from me and disappeared in the fog, a hesitant look in his eyes as he noted the stricken expression I wore. The siren blared incessantly as the bass and treble built until my very bones were vibrating with the power of it. The mask was everywhere I looked. Was it a gas mask? A rabbit? The porcelain doll?

There were people everywhere in tight clumps. It was impossible to break through. I was trapped. The euphoria I was experiencing before had suddenly turned to paranoia as I struggled to decipher the images flickering before me in the harsh strobe lights. The man was definitely behind me. He was closing ranks fast. I veered to the right and slammed into a nude girl covered in glowing body paint. She cried out. The guy with her shoved me violently backwards. The banners twirled and twisted in the air above me as I fell on my back. A masked person came into view above me and I rolled under the feet of the dancing patrons. Pushing myself up my uninjured left hand exploded in pain as someone stepped on it.

Upright and disoriented I frantically fought my way through the crowd. The porcelain doll mask just over my right shoulder and terrifyingly close. I finally burst out from the cramped and stifling crowd of the dance floor with the final siren call of the song. My mind a train wreck of over stimulation and extreme paranoia. I flung my body left and right in a frantic search for a face I knew, to check the path was clear, to escape until I slammed into another warm and solid body.

Arms gripped me tightly to hold us steady as I struggled madly against them.

"Shit! Watch it!" The deep voice warned.

I only calmed when the apocalyptic music subsided and the lights returned to their normal laser show from before. I looked up from the well-formed chest into the face of the man who held me.

"Peeta!" Finnick called out as he fought my madness. "What the hell?" I was surprised by the worry that tinged his voice.

I pulled back from him shockingly subdued. I scanned the crowd around me and all I saw were normal rave partiers. Even the masks that had all seemed so terrifying before became more comical in the normal light. Maybe it was just the environment DJ Biohazard had created for that last song that had thrown me into the panicked frenzy. Johanna had said he was known and followed for his intense apocalyptic interludes. I felt extremely stupid and childish. Relief washed over me like a hot shower.

Finnick shook me again and his touch felt electric. The molly still caused even the slightest touch to burn my nerve-endings with a sensual fire. I wanted more. What the hell was wrong with me? I was swinging from one end of the pendulum to the other with vertigo inducing speed.

"Uh—yeah sorry. I just got a little startled on the dance floor. It was an intense song."

Finnick nodded accepting my answer, and then readjusted the tray he carried under his arm and turned to leave me. He had his response and now he was going back to ignoring me. I was not about to accept that.

"That's all I fucking get?" I pulled him back to me and demanded.

He sighed and shook his head like a man tired of having to explain so frequently something so simple.

"If I'd have known you'd be a level five clinger I would never have fucked you."

My cheeks burned and my stomach boiled. He was not going to make me out to be some psychotic one-night-stand gone wrong.

"Excuse me? You've got to be joking. You and I both know that's not what happened here. I think I deserve a fucking explanation," I yelled to be heard over the music.

His eyes widened and he clenched his jaw.

"This is _not_ the place. I told you not to see me again!" He cautioned gravely through his clamped jaw.

I puffed my chest out antagonistically and shook my head, trying to focus it. The drug was still heavy in my system and worked me into an attention deficit disorder.

"I won't let you be until you explain yourself," I said. "We were a good fuck. Our bodies knew just how to _touch_ each other," I quickly changed my tune and spoke in a passionate voice pressing in closer in to him, slipping my arm behind his back and over the curve of his firm butt to prove my point. If he wanted to make me out to be some sex-starved clinger then I could be just that.

He jumped at my touch and dropped the tray.

"Shit, Peeta. Just—fuck, okay. But not here and definitely not now."

I brought my other hand to his crotch and he went rigid. I could feel his dick twitch in his denim jeans. The molly was making every touch sexual and I couldn't help but wonder what sex would feel like high. It had been going on a few days now.

"Then when?"

Finnick picked his tray up and watched the crowd around us with shifty eyes. He leaned in to respond then pulled back when someone walked too close. He was making me anxious. What could be causing him to act so distrustful?

"Come by my place in the morning. I get off at 7. Don't tell anyone," He paused to stare me down with fearsome sea green eyes. "And then that is the last contact you can have with me. I mean it. There is nothing here to be had."

He walked away with out a goodbye leaving me more confused than when I slammed into him paranoid a masked man was chasing me. A dancer in a gas mask whirled by me and I flinched. I'd had enough. I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was well after four in the morning. I wasn't tired at all, the molly keeping me very wired, but I don't think I could have fun on that dance floor again.

After calling each of the girls and getting their voicemail I knew I wasn't going to be able to get hold of them. I was not going to try and search for them on that crazy dance floor and I knew the girls were probably not going to hear my calls anytime soon over the music. So instead I headed out the exit and onto the boardwalk. Everything was closed by now except for District One, which had been rented out exclusively for the rave. Most of the activity and noise spilled forth from the front doors and then petered out the further I walked down the pier.

Marvel or Cato? I stood leaning against the wooden railing of the pier staring at the luminescent screen of my phone wondering whom I should call. My finger hovered over Cato's name until at the last minute I switched and pressed Marvel's. Cato's behavior had left me questioning whether we could still be friends after I told him of my crush, it probably wasn't best to test those limits just yet at four in the morning. I could try and repair the damage another day when I wasn't high on molly.

Twenty minutes later after texting the girls that Marvel was going to give me a ride home he texted. He was in the parking lot. I made my way down the pier towards the boardwalk. The moon was just a small sliver in the sky and cast very little light. The slight ocean breeze washed right through my skin and re-ignited the fading high. I skipped across the wooden planks giddy and I actually laughed out loud at my stupidity from earlier in the evening. I was such a fool for getting so easily freaked on the dance floor. It was probably all my underlying stress manifesting itself, although it chose quite a terrifying form. It might have even been some guy trying to get with me and I bet my behavior left him very puzzled.

Marvel's bright blue sports car glowed like a beacon in the dark. It was glorious and I ran to it like a child at Disneyland. I hopped in the car exuberantly and explained to a sleepy-eyed Marvel how much I loved the color of his car.

"What are you wearing? And _what _are you on?" Marvel asked with an incredulous laugh that turned into a drawn out yawn.

"Aw, I'm sorry to wake you Marv. It was DJ Biohazards rave. But I'm so over it. I just want to go home! Take me home sailor!" I shouted and saluted forward.

He revved the engine and then tore out of the parking lot. The speed was exhilarating and pumped me up even more. I turned up the radio that Marvel had playing subtly in the background and bounced.

"You're a good friend Marvel."

I watched him as he drove. I studied his profile and the slight quirk of his lips at my comment. It made me happy when he was happy. I hated that my denial of him made him so sad. But I couldn't fix that.

We arrived at my house quicker than expected, but then again time didn't move in a linear line for me tonight.

"Have you seen Molly?" I chuckled at my joke.

"Ah so that's it," Marvel said with recognition dawning on him. "I was wondering what had you so giddy. I should have known by those blown out pupils."

I took Marvel's hand from its place on the stick shift and held it in mine. Tracing the lines on his palm and wiggling my toes at the tingling sensation it gave my fingertips I laughed some more.

"I do feel very happy. I haven't felt so happy in a long time. Everyone should do Molly!" I shouted unexpectedly.

Marvel jumped and then threw his hand over my mouth.

"Shush, You'll wake a neighbor. And I don't think most would agree with that statement." He smirked and shook his head at my antics.

Wide Awake by Katy Perry began playing on the radio. She might have written the song about my relationship with Marvel. It made me reminiscent of the good times before I fell from cloud nine. Before we crashed from the high. Marvel was still holding my hand and I tried to fight the sensations it sent up my arm and straight to my groin. Touching Finnick earlier had planted the seed in my head. Sex on Molly was probably an ecstasy inducing experience. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

_I'm wide-awake._

_Thunder rumbling,_

_Castles crumbling._

_I am trying to hold on._

Silver eyes tempted me. Soft lips parted slightly revealing the tip of a tongue and pulling me in. Hands running the length of my arm, kneading and pulling until I was a puddle of overwrought senses. My mind was buzzing with the sensual touches, the crescendo of the song, the temptation of sex. I didn't want to give it to him. I was over him. But then again I had needs and neither Finnick nor Cato could fulfill them.

"Peeta…" Marvel groaned in wanton need. "Please, I miss you so much."

I was letting go tonight. I had let go of the past. I had let go of the worrying events of the past few days. I was letting my lips press against his. I was granting his tongue entrance. I was being overcome by the sensations. The molly was amplifying each touch, each sensation by a hundred and it all felt too good.

"I—"

"Shh, no talking," Marvel commanded, interrupting my thoughts and then he pulled me over the center console and onto his lap with startling strength and domination.

He was only wearing silk pajama bottoms and a wife beater. I dug my nails into his toned arms and ground down on his growing erection. The little blood left in my head was quickly rushing south to further intoxicate me. My adrenaline was pumping fast and the need was growing in me like a hungry wolf that begged to be released.

"God damn you look so sexy," He growled.

Marvel's hands massaged the flesh of my ass and a finger slipped up the bottom of my shorts to massage against my hole. I groaned into his mouth and kissed him with a furious passion. The kiss felt amplified. Everything was turned on and each nerve ending was operating at well over 100 percent. I was beyond horny and needy for release. I didn't care that it was Marvel anymore, just as long as someone could fill the hole inside me, make me feel wanted and sated.

We struggled in the tight confines of his sport car to remove our shirts and then Marvel clamped down on my right nipple with his mouth and I screamed out in pleasure. Or maybe pain. It was too much. I couldn't handle the sensations. They were going to overload my brain. I was panting as if I just ran a marathon and we had only barely begun.

Hands labored to undo the buttons of my tight shorts and the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. Marvel's rock hard member radiated heat and jumped at the slightest of touches. I bent back to try and lift my hips, giving Marvel a better angle to strip me of my shorts. An elbow hit the steering wheel and a sharp honk rang out in the silent night. I sprung upright, hitting my head on the low ceiling.

"Ow."

"Is your head okay?" Marvel asked, not really caring as he focused on sliding my shorts off.

I rubbed the top of my head and the reality of the situation came roaring back to me with a slap to the face. I fought Marvel's hands away from my pants. He wouldn't let go and we struggled. He gripped my wrists tightly and pushed them back behind me.

"Let go." I ordered.

"C'mon Peeta." Marvel said heady with lust.

I managed to open the door, practically falling off his lap and out onto the driveway.

"What're you—oh you wanna take this inside?" He asked hopefully.

Dusting myself off I glared at Marvel, finally able to see clearly.

"I'm sorry I can't do this. And you shouldn't try to take advantage of me when I'm not sober!" I bristled.

Marvel withdrew into his shell like a defensive turtle. But only for a moment before he reared back out and snapped at me with the ferocity of an injured animal. The fire burst forth with a shocking intensity.

"Are you fucking kidding? You're the slut that'll spread your legs for just about anyone! Don't think people don't know how many guys you let fuck you at college. It's not taking advantage, it's taking what's mine."

No one had ever spoken to me like that and maybe because I was still under the effects of the molly it hurt that much worse. Like he had cut into me with a knife, knowing the perfect spot to strike that would damage me the most. I barely contained a shudder and squeezed my eyes shut, needing to stop the emotion before it escaped. The pot was about to boil over and I didn't know how to stop it only to stave it off for a few more moments. I managed to open my eyes with a pissed off and livid red glare honed in on Marvel. That was all he got, nothing more, not so much as an angry word. Then I stormed towards my house fighting to hold in everything that wished to spill forth. It was like trying to hold the lid on a steaming pot, the more the pressure built the harder it was to contain and the more it burned my hands.

"Shit, Peeta, babe I'm sorry. I didn't mean that! You know I just love you so much! I—I got overworked. Peeta, please! No one will ever love you like I do!"

His cries of apology fell on deaf ears as I ran into my house and slammed the door behind me. Then I slid down against it exhausted and overrun by Marvel's harsh words of truth. I let the tears overflow for the first time in over a year. They stung and chapped my cheeks spitefully as the images of all the nameless fucks I had over the past year ran before me in a sickening reel. Each one dug the knife in deeper; each one drawing a disgusted tear from my eye; each one damaging my innocence, tainting my soul.

A thud sounded out as Marvel kicked his car and paced my driveway. I bit back the gurgling noises of my distraught emotions like a sick baby. Marvel cussed and pounded his car more.

The images turned to ones of Cato running from my home in a disoriented panic, Marvel and I in bed together on a Saturday morning sharing a bowl of sugary cereal, Finnick calling me a clinger, Gale trying to love me and save me and I refused him time and time again; my dad's broken face as I cut deeper wounds into our relationship, my brothers hurtful slurs, graduation night…

I felt small, miniscule. Inconsequential. The tears were a shame greater than any I had known as I fell into my own weakness. How did I get here? I covered my mouth and sobbed out in strained silence, a hoarse scream that echoed in another plane. The tears tasted salty and bitter on my tongue, gagging me. Marvel's engine could be heard roaring to life and then screeching down the street, fading in the distance. Everybody was distant from me now. Nothing was left that I could hold close. That I could love healthily. That could save me.

* * *

The psychedelic effects of the Molly had long worn off, but it still kept me up the rest of the night until the sun rose. I was never able to move from my spot on the floor by the front door. I just curled into a ball on my side and rested my head on my bent arm. As the sun began to steadily creep in through the windows I watched as little motes of dust floated arbitrarily through the air settling on the wood paneled floor or sticking to the legs of a table. I felt about as insignificant as the little particles. I had heard once that 90 percent of dust was flakes of one's dead skin. So maybe I was just watching the trivial particles of me float away, meaninglessly and never able to find a place to settle for long.

The beep of my phone alerted me to another received text, probably from Marvel. I hadn't checked it since I broke down. But this time I decided to look and see the time. I unfurled from my tucked in position, bones cracked and muscles cried out in strained tension from the length of time spent in such an unforgiving arrangement. It was after eight in the morning.

Sitting up and stretching the soreness from my body I spotted a bruise forming on my left hand from being stomped on, which then reminded me of my conversation with Finnick. Maybe life still sucked, but at least I could get answers to one of the many questions I had. I stood and dialed Finnick's number.

It rang and rang as I scoured the refrigerator for something to eat. Nothing was appetizing. I shut the fridge admitting defeat, knowing the molly still in my system probably decreased my appetite. I hung up the phone when I reached Finnick's voicemail. I was not going to be ignored. He had promised to meet me one last time to explain. It was the least I deserved. I couldn't leave one more thing unresolved in my life.

I grabbed my keys and drove to Finnick's house on memory alone. He could dodge my calls, but not if I showed up at his place. I almost passed his small two-bedroom bungalow. It looked different in the daylight, but it was still charming in it's faded yellow color and white hurricane shutters. I parked on the street and tried calling one more time, still no answer. It only further solidified my resolve.

His street was calm and quiet, undisturbed in a way that only a weekend morning could offer. I approached his front door ready to pound on it until he answered. I didn't care if I woke the neighbors, he would face me. But when I reached his door I saw it was slightly ajar. I checked up and down the street, but no other cars were parked nearby. He wouldn't have just left it open would he? Maybe he knew I was coming and wanted me to just enter?

I rapped my knuckles against the screen door two times, which was still pulled shut, and called out a hesitant hello. There was no answer, again. I waited briefly then thought screw it I'm going in. I pulled open the screen door and pushed the main door inward. It swung open with a drawn out creak on its rusted hinges and grated against my ears. A cloud must have passed over the early morning sun, as the house suddenly grew darker. The atmosphere was foreboding and I wondered if I shouldn't just head back to my car. I could get answers another day.

But it was too late as I found myself inside Finnick's home. The world was still and silent.

"Finnick?" I called out again.

There was a faint clink of glass in the room to my left. I turned towards it with wide eyes and suppressed fear. Then I crept uncertainly towards the room. I did not know what it held as I never had the chance to explore his home outside his bedroom. It looked it was possibly the kitchen. Maybe he was making some breakfast? But why hadn't he answered me? I looked for a light switch to help alleviate some of the growing tension in the shadowed room. There was one near the door, but when I flicked it nothing happened.

Then I spotted the overturned and broken lamp on the floor leading to the room where the noise came from. One more clink of glass reverberated weakly from the room. I inhaled sharply and moved forward in a swift and decisive motion until I was inside bracing myself to face an angry and sleep deprived Finnick. Instead I walked onto the set of a horror movie.

"Oh my god."

Glass crunched under my feet. It lay scattered all across the floor. Chairs from his kitchen table were over turned and stained with blood. Blood sprayed the cabinets and dripped in thick droplets to the counter. Blood freckled the countertop. Blood smeared the white tiled floor. Blood was everywhere. Blood was mostly pooled around a body face down on the floor. I had never seen so much of it. The image of it burned itself onto my retinas.

Terror locked me in place as my eyes tried to take in everything before it. Tried to process what I was seeing because it couldn't be real this couldn't be happening. Things like this didn't happen in real life. There was a body my mind registered again. Finnick's body! I fell forward and braced myself against the kitchen table. Finnick had multiple stab wounds to the back along with a jagged and broken beer bottle protruding from his neck where most of the blood pooled dark and thick like syrup. I was going to vomit. Bile tickled the back of my throat and an involuntary gag slipped from my tightly pressed lips.

There was a rattling sound that made me jump in fear. I swung on the spot ready to face an attacker when I realized I was shaking and rattling the legs of the table against the tile. I needed to pull it together. I needed to call the police. I needed to get the fuck out of here. Then I heard the clink again. Finnick's hand twitched and flicked two small shards of glass against each other, creating the sounds I heard. He was still alive! I needed to help him!

I stepped forward to run to him, to try and lift him up, to try and quell the bleeding, I don't know, my mind was racing, but incapable of piecing together the correct actions. Then I heard something, a door closing. My blood ran cold and my heart stuttered a beat. My brain fogged over in terror. It was like I was a child again and so utterly afraid of the dark that I thought if I just remained frozen whatever evil spirits or monsters that lurked in the shadows wouldn't be able to find me.

Except I was wrong, because this wasn't some silly childhood fear and this wasn't a monster hiding in the corners of a dark room. This was real. This was a killer who stepped into the kitchen on the opposing side nearest Finnick's motionless body. This was a murderer who wore a black tracksuit and hood. A killer that concealed his face with a disturbing porcelain doll mask and still held a long and jagged hunter's knife in his leather-gloved fist. A killer I had seen not hours before at the rave. A killer I was now face-to-face with alone and witness to one of his violent murders. A killer that now lifted the large blade up ready to strike.

**Dun. Dun. Dun! Cliffhanger! **


	8. Senior Year

**This chapter just flowed out of me. I think maybe because it's been a long time coming. Go read and report back to me! It's the longest one yet (27 pages!).**

Senior Year

Peeta hopped out of his green Jeep Wrangler. He stood behind his car and looked up the slight incline of the parking lot towards the three-story whitewashed brick building that was his high school. The main entrance was flanked on either side by towering white columns that dwarfed the students as they entered the school. The campus rested atop a small hill and had a spectacular view from the cafeteria leading to sandy dunes and the beach. Seniors were allowed to leave campus for lunch and often chose to picnic on the sprawling sand by the sea.

Today Peeta hesitated before entering the school because everything was about to change. All eyes would be on him, which happened sometimes due to running with the popular crowd, but today was different. Today was the first day of his senior year. Today he entered the prison gates of high school no longer single, but dating a star lacrosse player, one of his best friends, and one of the most popular guys in school next to Cato, Gloss or Thresh. He hoped Marvel was ready for the looks, for the stir it might cause, because it was all Peeta had been thinking about since they became 'official' over summer.

They had been playing it safe all summer with low key dates and mostly group outings with friends until everyone was comfortable with them as a couple, but now that they all knew (and didn't care of course) Marvel was ready to take the plunge and let the world know. Well the high school world, which seemed like everything to them. Peeta didn't know why he was so scared, he'd been out since 8th grade and everyone knew and accepted it by now, it was old news. Marvel didn't seem nervous at all. So why couldn't Peeta help but imagine dropped jaws and scandalized looks, hushed whispers and scathing rumors of Peeta 'turning' Marvel.

All was made better though. His raw nerves soothed. His rampant fears assuaged. His hand threaded with that of his boyfriend when Marvel materialized to Peeta's right. Marvel was making his grand statement in the subtlest yet most forceful way implicitly stating to the school he was with Peeta and daring those to challenge it. Peeta entered the school with the proud gait of a lion. He'd never known what it was like to have someone choose him, to lay it all out on the line for him. Butterflies hatched from their long dormant cocoons and fluttered in his stomach with joy and satisfaction.

They walked, hand-in-hand, through the school. Marvel looked forward with determination, not so much as glancing at those he passed by, much like he usually did. He always moved about with an aura of authority, oblivious to the commoners around him. But Peeta couldn't help himself as he watched and waited for the reaction to the announcement of the newest couple in school. Most people didn't seem phased. A few girls stared with disappointed looks, probably having got their hopes up when word spread of Marvel's split with Glimmer at the end of last year. Otherwise it was much more the nonevent than Peeta had built it up to be and he was grateful for that. Peeta's eyes connected with the olive eyes of Katniss for a moment and she smirked in approval before turning back to her locker. He knew then that it was going to be a good senior year.

They parted at the lockers with a surprising display of affection, a kiss to the cheek, and then headed to their separate first period class. The world could have ended in fire and brimstone, but Peeta would have been unable to wipe the wide cartoon smile from his face. He entered his Photography class in his own little bubble completely unaware of the world around him. Mr. Cinna lectured for a few minutes about what to expect from this class before letting them have the rest of class as a free period, which is what Peeta loved about the first day of school. Peeta was forced back to reality as Glimmer and Johanna descended on him from either side.

"So you're all everyone's talking about," Johanna said, sidling up to him on the right with a smirk, enjoying this all too much.

"Some are saying you may be the new power couple," Glimmer said on his left. She was slightly indignant. The unsaid question left hanging: have people already forgotten about her? After all she was one half the power couple only just last year.

"Oh Glim I'm sure whatever man you decide to grace with your awesomeness next will instantly rise to superstardom and propel you two into the annals of power couple-dom," Peeta sweet talked with a heavily restrained eye-roll.

She sat up a little straighter in the seat next to him and flipped her hair haughtily; satisfied with the flattery she had been fishing for.

"Oh Peeta, honey, you always put together the most elegant compliments!" She beamed and squeezed his shoulder. "Even if I don't understand it completely…"

"Cram a sock in it," Johanna barked. "This is Peeta's day. Lets let him enjoy it, okay?" She stared down Glimmer who huffed at the insult before backing down at Johanna's intimidating face.

"You're right, soak up the day Peeta, you deserve it," Glimmer said and Peeta knew she meant it. She truly cared even though she often came across as dim-witted and shallow.

"But seriously. Prom court? History made this spring at Capitol Prep maybe?" Johanna pushed.

Peeta gulped. He wasn't sure he was ready for anything like that. He'd much rather just fly under the radar riding the coattails of his popular friends than make his own claim to fame.

"Uh, I don't know about any of that, I think it'd be better for our relationship if we tried to keep it simple, we're still trying to figure it out, no need to throw a campaign for prom court on top of it all!" He tried to explain.

"Hm," Johanna shrugged, "Well it's still a ways off. I can't promise others wont push it on your behalf…"

Peeta didn't like the sound of that. Johanna could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, especially with her own special brand of lobbying: threats and intimidation.

"What about his parents, do they know?" Glim suddenly asked, veering off the prom topic.

"No, maybe—I don't really know. He says they've never really paid attention to him to begin with so I don't think they'd even notice if he told them he was gay."

"Shame." Glim said. "I could have my dads go talk to them if he wants. Let him know."

"Sure." Not a chance.

* * *

The metal bleachers groaned with the packed weight of screaming teenagers and some overly invested parents who shouted red in the face like fans at a professional sports game. The Capitol Prep kids all wore black and silver attire, some with stripes of black and silver under their eyes or silver ribbons in their hair. The school colors were black and silver, their mascot a wolverine beast. The air was still slightly frigid for the end of March and so the packed stands were boisterous and constantly moving to stay warm while cheering on their team.

It was an important game. They were playing Santa Barbara High for the chance to make it to Regionals and they had a very good shot, having been undefeated all season. It was the best season they'd had since Peeta started at Capitol Prep. For Cato it couldn't have been more important. He was close to sealing a lacrosse scholarship to UCLA. The recruiters were here for the game.

Peeta and Clove stood at the front of the stands, leaning over the railings and wildly cheering on their respective boyfriends. Clove had black and silver streamers in her hair and Peeta had painted his face black on one side, silver on the other. He had always been to the games to root for his two friends, but he'd never been so involved as he had become when lacrosse season started in the spring semester.

The year was flying by and Peeta really wasn't ready for it to end, he just wanted it to continue on forever. Things had never been so perfect as he fell in love with Marvel and partied way through senior year with his best friends. Ever since the party they threw at Glimmer's to celebrate the start of 12th grade they had cemented themselves as the go to party crowd, the must have at any event or it wasn't cool.

It might have been exhausting if he wasn't having so much fun. Peeta couldn't have been enjoying himself more: reaping the benefits of being the top upperclassman, spending the weekends in Marvel's bed smoking and eating fruity cereals, partying at night with his friends, and best of all getting his acceptance letter last week to UCLA. Which meant Marvel and him would not be forced to separate after graduation.

Clove and Peeta shook the massive sign they had spent the afternoon making between them with intense screams for blood.

"KILL THEM!" Clove screamed, "SMEAR THE FIELD WITH THEIR BLOOD!"

"Whoa, kinda intense there, Clove," Peeta laughed.

"I'm always intense!"

She shook the poster harder and stomped her foot against the metal stands when Cato slammed into a player taking the ball in his stick. It was all very exciting and one couldn't help but be carried away by the wild atmosphere. Peeta had to agree with Clove, she did everything with 100 percent conviction and intensity. There was no halfway with her, it was all or nothing.

Glimmer waved at Peeta and Clove from her spot on the track lanes around the field. She wore the black and silver cheerleaders uniform and was relishing in her role as captain of the squad. Thankfully that appointment back at the beginning of the school year had given her the confidence boost she needed in her popularity.

Marvel now had the ball and it was Peeta's turn to scream as loud as he could for his boyfriend. Marvel took off down the field, but a brutally large defender from Santa Barbara was about to smash into him and stop his progress. The wolverines were behind by one point. Marvel's point would tie the game. Marvel pivoted at the last second, dodging the beast of a man. Thresh and Cato came from opposing sides and crushed the man between them. He fell to the grass and didn't get back up. Marvel raced to the goal, lifted his stick and launched the ball. Goal! The crowd burst into uproarious cheers.

Somehow the clock had worn down and only little time was left to score and win this thing. Clove and Peeta held each other tightly like it were life and death stakes. Peeta chewed on his cheek. Clove watched with wide eyes refusing to blink, even as they started burning to be moistened. The apparent star of the other team, a slender and cheetah fast boy had the ball in his possession and tore down the field towards their goal. Everyone screamed in panic.

"DEFENSE, DEFENSE!" Glimmer led the cheerleaders in chanting.

Suddenly Thresh was there like a clap of lightning and tackled him with thunderous impact. But the boy had already passed the ball to another teammate right by the goal. Except Marvel managed to intercept it miraculously! Clove and Peeta broke apart flailing wildly in what could only be described as an epileptic fit. Marvel took off down the field. But his options were narrowing as the opposing team descended on him, not ready to lose.

"I'm open!" Thresh yelled at Marvel from behind him.

Marvel eyed him over his shoulder and then leaned to his right, feinting, and then rotated and passed the ball to Cato on his left who had broke free of pack and made himself wide open. He caught the ball with the stick like it was an extension of his arm. The roar of the crowd grew impossibly loud. Cato tore down the field, his cleats spitting up tufts of grass in his wake. He pulled back, aimed and flung the ball with amazing precision and speed. It soared right past the goalies outstretched stick and into the net. They scored the final goal. They were going to Regionals!

Peeta and Clove jumped over the railings and raced onto the field when the final buzzer went off. They broke the damn and the rest of the school followed suit, pouring out of the stands and onto the field in an unstoppable tsunami of bodies. Clove jumped into the arms of Cato. She ripped his mask off and their lips glued together messily with lots of tongue and saliva. Peeta ran into Marvel and they twirled in a tight embrace, kissing (some of his face paint marking Marvel's lips) before the crowd and other boisterous teammates reached them. They broke them apart as they jumped and pounded each other in tribal displays of masculinity. Peeta laughed giddily.

Eventually they were ushered off the field so they teams could shake hands. Peeta knew there would be some crazy party tonight. Clove and Peeta anxiously waited by the locker rooms for their boyfriends.

"I just got a text from Johanna, she say's Bradley already has a keg tapped and waiting back at his place," Clove said while texting on her phone.

"Awesome, lets hope Thresh and Cato are too high from the win to be dicks to each other tonight," Peeta said.

Cato and Marvel were some of the last teammates to come out of the locker room. They were freshly showered, pumped with the high of a big win, and ready to party.

"I just talked to my recruiter, he said it's all but a done deal!"

"Oh my gosh, congrats!" Peeta shouted happily for his friend and gripped his arm.

Clove pulled Cato in for another deep kiss before he could respond, but his eyes remained open and watching Peeta. Peeta turned to his boyfriend and kissed him in greeting.

"You know that thing I said I wouldn't do? Well tonight is the one night you're gonna get to do it," Peeta whispered with steamy breath in his boyfriends ear.

Marvel groaned and dipped with his knees.

"Ah fuck, Peeta, you're the best!"

"Nasty! Could ya two wait until home to do yer perverted shit?" A harsh southern voice interrupted their moment.

Peeta pulled back startled and glared at Thresh, but quickly had to pull his boyfriend back as he tried to jump Thresh. Marvel may have been athletic and strong, but Thresh was a beast and no match for him.

But Cato was and he got up right in Thresh's face with a snarl.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

"What'd they turn ya queer too? Maybe tha's why Marvel passed to you when I was wide open. Fag pride or somethin'," Thresh growled pushing his chest into Cato's.

Clove tried to pull Cato back, but he just shrugged her off like a horse swatted away a bothersome fly. She barely fazed him. Peeta was still struggling to hold his fuming boyfriend back before it turned into an all out brawl, his face paint smearing on Marvel's shirt.

They needed Gloss here. He was usually good at getting Thresh to back down. But tonight it looked like he wanted to fight and there was something in Cato's eyes that made Peeta think trouble was on the horizon.

"Lemme go Peeta!" Marvel shouted. He thrashed in Peeta's arms, but Peeta kept his grip and worked steady and slow to pull Marvel backwards, away from the two giants about to clash. "Fuck him up Cato!"

"Don't!" Clove begged, but she back treaded from her boyfriend deciding to put a safe distance between her and the brutish lacrosse players. "Let's just go!"

Cato dug two pointed fingers into Thresh's chest. Their eyes were locked together and spitting fireworks.

"You're nothing but slime beneath my shoes, just give me a reason to beat the ignorant redneck right out of you."

A malicious spark flared in Thresh's eyes. His hand flashed from his sides grabbing hold and twisting Cato's hand from his chest.

"Okay, rich boy, give it yer best shot, if you can take that silver spoon you were born with out of your mouth long enough to fight like a real man," Thresh goaded. He held Cato's hand twisted at an awkward angle. Cato covered the pain with a ferocious mask of fury on his face. His lips pulled back to bear his teeth, his cobalt eyes seemed black as night and his nostrils flared like a raging bull. There might have even been steam puffing from them.

Thresh somehow managed to laugh in Cato's face when any other person faced with such a look would have had a hard time not losing bowel control. That's when Cato snapped and swung with his free fist. Thresh let go of Cato's hand and shoved him back, dodging the punch. Cato stumbled and Thresh charged forward before he had time to readjust. He smashed into Cato's midsection and slammed him up into the wall.

"Stop it!" Clove screeched.

"Cato, don't!" Peeta cried as he surged forward with Marvel who tried to pull free when the fight broke out. Instead they both ended up face down on the cement.

"C'mon Cato, kill him!" Marvel called out in encouragement from the ground rolling with Peeta as they fought to keep him from entering the fray.

Cato and Thresh made animalistic sounds as they struggled against each other trying desperately to get a better grip on the other so they could toss one to the ground and begin the real pounding. If it weren't so vicious Peeta would have thought it looked slightly homoerotic as they wrestled in each other's arms.

Suddenly Johanna came running around the corner with Gloss and coach Brutus, closely trailed by a petite innocent looking girl with the same coffee colored skin as Thresh. The coach was a burly and sour man that was not to be messed with. He took everything seriously and dispensed harsh punishment to his players. He played no favoritism.

"Thresh!" He stalled in his escalating fight with Cato at the sound of the young girls shocked voice.

"Break this apart, now or so help me the two of you will be suspended from the team for the rest of the season, Regionals be fucked!" He ordered as Gloss ripped Thresh from Cato. The Coach held Cato with one hand against the wall and a stern finger to his face in warning.

"Get him out of my fucking sight," He turned to throw his unyielding finger at Thresh.

Gloss didn't have to struggle to get him to leave, Thresh bent down and took the girls hand in his tenderly and lead her from the scene. "I'm sorry, Rue." She looked shaken having discovered her brother in a fight.

Coach looked back at the raggedly panting Cato and he fisted his hand in Cato's shirt pulling him closer, breathing harsh words in his face. "I don't care who started this, if it happens again I will bench my star player. Capiche?"

Cato averted his eyes, but nodded. The Coach then left the kids with out so much as a parting glance. Clove mouthed thanks to Johanna. Peeta got up from on top of Marvel and pieced together she must have texted her to get help.

"So I guess the party moods killed?" Johanna questioned.

Marvel picked himself up from the ground and Cato who was still shaking in uncontrolled rage. Clove tried to soothe him, but he just pushed her back and walked away. She looked back at her friends lost for words then ran after his fading form.

* * *

"Would you quit fucking nagging me? Every day you bug me about the same damn shit over and over, it's exhausting!"

With soap foam still thick on her hands, Johanna stopped moving so the automatic sink would cease spraying water and she could listen better from the bathroom. It was Cato's loud voice that had echoed into the empty girls bathroom. It was fifth period and everyone should be in class. They probably thought they were alone. She had noticed the deterioration in Clove and Cato's relationship over the past few weeks. Little snappy comments here and there, a sharp decline in PDA, and Clove was often alone, unable to get hold of Cato.

So Johanna took this opportunity as a chance to gain insight into maybe what was happening to the longest running couple in her group of friends. She perked her ears and strained to listen to Clove's response.

"Cato, I'm _not _nagging. I'm concerned. Something's going on. You ignore my calls, you're distant when we're together and last weekend you just disappeared! I shouldn't have to ask where you were."

Johanna had not known this. They had spent the weekend at Glimmer's house getting high and drinking while her dads were in Milan for a clothing launch. Glimmer was not supposed to have guests over to the house anymore after that party she had, but enough time had passed that her dads had quickly forgotten about the newly imposed rule. Clove and Cato were both absent and everyone had assumed they were together.

"I told you I was practicing for an interview with the Lacrosse Coach at UCLA," Cato hissed in response. He sounded fed up.

"I don't believe you." Clove replied in staunch defiance.

Johanna jolted when she heard what sounded like Cato kicking over a trashcan. She wondered if she should make her presence known. She didn't want anyone to do something they would regret.

"Cato what's happening to us? I love you, talk to me, please—"

"Don't touch me!" Cato barked and even Johanna cringed in response to the aggrieved tone. "I— Just go back to class and quit following me like some love starved puppy, it's not a flattering look."

Cato's heavy footsteps could be heard moving away down the ceramic tiled hallway. In the following silence Johanna could hear a sniffle and quiet mewling sounds. Clove was crying. Johanna's heart broke for her as she too found herself supremely confused by what seemed to be happening between her two friends.

* * *

Johanna dropped into the open seat in the library next to Peeta unexpectedly. His eyes jumped from his calculus book to study her.

"You're not it my study hall," He noted casually.

"Eh?" Johanna grunted with an absentminded look before she realized that he was indeed right. "Oh, yeah. Well you know it's healthy to skip a class every now and then. Plus I've got a case of senioritis, bad."

"Uh…well I'm trying my best to fight that certain ailment."

She plucked the textbook from Peeta to peer at the pages he was study. She scrunched her nose and closed it, pushing it far from her sight.

"Not today, Peeta bread." She proclaimed. "I really don't know how you do it, all those numbers and letters look like fucking gibberish to me, but to each their own I guess..."

Peeta folded his hands in his lap patiently and fixated his stare on her, waiting. She always took her time getting to the point. It was a grand process she relished.

"Did you see your name's on the ballot for Prom King?" Johanna asked. She seemed entirely uninterested in the conversation she had started with Peeta, picking the dirt from beneath her fingernails.

"I did." Peeta was somewhat perturbed to see he had ended up on the ballot. While he may have forgotten about the promise, or threat depending how one looked at it, she made earlier in the year he can't say he wasn't surprised when it happened.

"I thought about getting you in under Prom Queen, but I figured you wouldn't appreciate the title as much," She said like it was blander than white rice, but Peeta could see the hint of a smile in her eyes.

"You figured correct."

"SHH," A voice hissed across the library.

Johanna whipped her head towards whoever had dared to hush them. The poor unsuspecting kid shrunk back in his seat terrified. Satisfied she returned to face Peeta again and continued as if the interruption had never occurred.

"Where was I? Oh, yeah it's a shame though because now you and Marvel will probably split the progressive vote and Cato will win. Or Gloss. You can never be too sure, what with the way Cato's been acting lately…"

And there it was, her point, the reason of her visit. Peeta could tell when she turned to face him like the conversation had finally pulled her focus.

"Yeah, it does look like he and Clove are headed for splitsville." Peeta commented not giving her an inch. She'd have to be clearer on what she wanted. He wasn't going to try to ferret it out for her.

"It's not just that. He's been…" She paused searching for the correct word, "…off if you will. I can't put my finger on exactly what off is, but you can't say you haven't noticed it."

Johanna's words wrung true. He thought back to the game a few weeks ago and what he thought he saw in Cato's eyes. He couldn't describe what it was either. But he remained silent. Johanna huffed when she realized she wasn't going to get him to agree with her.

"Fine. I'm just thinking maybe you should talk with Marvel. Maybe see if you can get him to talk to Cato, they've been best friends since elementary school. Somebody needs to talk to him before he does something stupid."

"Like breaking up with Clove," Peeta said.

"Sure…" She eyed him, unconvinced of his ignorance on the subject of Cato. "Well I'm gonna go have a few smokes, care to join?" Peeta's disbelieving look was answer enough. "Suit yourself. See ya, slut bread."

Then she was gone, just as abruptly as she came and Peeta rolled his eyes drastically. He reached out across the table and pulled his AP Calc book back towards him to continue the homework he had started. Except his mind was no longer focused like before and he couldn't blame it on the senioritis that was quickly infecting the school's population.

* * *

"Fuck, yes, Peeta!" Marvel cried out, only slightly muffled by the pillow where his face was currently buried.

Pearly beads of sweat dripped down Peeta's spine as his back rippled with the jolt of his hips. His round butt cheeks clenched tight and hallowed with each inward thrust. He clenched Marvel's hips and pulled them to meet his fervent thrusts as he pounded into the tight warm heat that was Marvel. He stood behind Marvel who spread his legs wide to receive the rigid member of his lover. He was braced against the side of his bed biting his pillow and ruffling the silk sheets. Peeta rumbled deep in his chest with a building satisfaction as his boyfriend assaulted his down pillow with a litany of curses.

"Fuck, Marv, I'm close, I don't think I can hold it…" Peeta said with harsh pants between each buck of his hips.

"Oh god, yeah babe, just do it, all over me," He begged.

Peeta's mind was solely focused on the velvet heat that suctioned his aching length and squeezed it for its white milk. His legs wobbled as the orgasm built in his tightening balls. All thought was eradicated from his mind, swiped clean like an etch-a-sketch. His brain began to shut down. His limbs went slack as he buried himself into his boyfriend one final time. Then he pulled out at the last moment before his release erupted from him like a dormant volcano swiftly becoming active. He stroked his twitching dick and thick ropes of cum spurted out over Marvel's taut muscled back once, twice, three times. Then the remains drizzled weakly from his angry red head. He barely managed to stay on his feet as his legs shook violently with the eruption of bliss and pleasure.

"I love it when you cum on me," Marvel cooed. "When you mark me."

"Dirty whore," Peeta barked with a laugh.

Spent he fell atop Marvel's back and then slid over to the side and rested his back against the bed. His bottom half still hung off the edge with his feet planted on the ground. While Peeta waited for his breath to return to him Marvel stood up pulling the pillow with him.

"My turn," He informed huskily.

Marvel pushed Peeta up the bed and propped the pillow under his ass before diving down and sucking Peeta's slowly deflating cock into his mouth and savoring the remnants of his savory seed.

Sucking and teasing the now overly sensitive member of his lover, Marvel reached behind his back and smeared Peeta's dripping cum across his hand. Then he coated his still rock hard dick in the spunk of his lover and stood, lifting Peeta's legs up with him and hooking them over his shoulders. Peeta's eyes shot open and he let out a startled groan as Marvel slid home into Peeta. Even though he got off not moments before he still felt his pulse quicken.

"Fuck..." A languid moan escaped from Peeta's lips as he pushed against Marvel until his boyfriend was buried to the hilt.

Marvel's eyes threatened to roll back in his head. He could feel his orgasm was only a few thrusts away. He quickly worked his hips, rolling them against his boyfriend in a glorious rhythm that slowly had Peeta's cock twitching with life again. The ecstasy they built between them was overwhelming and their moans could not be contained.

"Yes, yes," Peeta panted, dragging a finger down the grooves of Marvel's abs.

Marvel spread Peeta's legs further and the new angle opened Peeta further to his plowing. Their slick skin slapped against each other in a pace that became faster and more erratic the closer Marvel built to his orgasm. It was like a runaway train, barreling with unstoppable speed towards its destination but becoming shaky on the tracks that tried to keep it in place. Suddenly the train derailed and crashed in a climactic explosion that threw Marvel atop Peeta and joined their lips where Peeta absorbed the needy cries of his boyfriend as he spilt his warmth deep inside Peeta, exactly where it should be.

Marvel pulled free from his love and picked up the towel by his bed to wipe him and Peeta clean before climbing into the bed next to him. Peeta pulled the rest of his body up and settled in properly on the bed next to Marvel. They spooned, fatigued and rejoicing in intimacy. Peeta closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of Marvel's rapidly rising and falling chest against his back. When any and all remaining thoughts in his mind at the moment should have been about the incredible flip-flop fuck he'd just had they instead drifted to a certain muscled blonde. It made him uncomfortable, vulnerable feeling, like Cato was here and witness to their post-coitus.

Clove and Cato had officially broken up the day before and their group was now reeling in disarray just a week before they were all supposed to go to prom together. Peeta hated how things seemed to be slipping from their grasp just before graduation. Things should have only been getting better as the year progressed. But maybe Johanna was right. He should ask Marvel to check in on Cato. Maybe Marvel was spending too much time with his boyfriend and not focusing enough on his friend.

Rolling in place, Peeta faced Marvel and placed a kiss to his nose.

"You should talk to Cato."

Marvel's eyes fluttered open and flitted across Peeta's face unevenly, trying to discern the meaning of this new topic. A clichéd green monster worked up his blood pressure at the imaginary presence of Cato.

"That's random…" He said.

"Sorry, it just popped into my head," Peeta explained. "But he might be going through something and as his best friend I think you have an obligation to check in on him."

Marvel sighed and pulled the covers up around them.

"Eh. He's fine. He's a dude. He doesn't talk about his _feelings_." Marvel dismissed.

"Uh! And what's that make me?" Peeta asked resentfully, pushing away from Marvel. "I talk about my feelings."

He smirked and snuggled into Peeta's neck, sniffing and nipping like a bulldog until Peeta couldn't contain his laughter.

"That makes you my sensitive little babe!" Marvel yipped and jumped on top of Peeta tickling him into submission, the topic of Cato quickly forgotten.

* * *

Cato sat in the breakfast room off from the kitchen. It was a rectangular room built out from the house and lined with latticed windows looking out over the bluffs and Pacific Ocean, a truly stunning view. For Cato none of that mattered or even registered. It was all kind of numb for him. He was just drifting through, unmoored.

A pile of orange peels were scattered about the oak wood table where Cato sat. One uneaten and fully peeled orange rested by the scraps. An opened letter from New York, New York also graced the table, its contents a check for $5,000 from his father, partially obscured by orange peels as well. The memo portion of the check read: _monthly allowance_.

Cato's dull fingernails worked at skinning another California navel orange. Each scratch into the thick skin sprayed a pungent effervescent citrus smell into the air. He peeled the orange with an unwavering determination. His phone vibrated against the table loudly, Clove's name popping up on the caller ID, but Cato never seemed to register that it rang. He just continued to peel his fruit.

Once finished he picked up a third navel orange from the nylon stitched bag at his side and began puncturing the skin, ripping it from the flesh of the fruit with satisfaction. It was as if he thought somewhere in the bag of fruit one of the oranges might hold answers beneath its rubbery surface. The whole room was tainted with the smell of orange peels like some type of citrus greenhouse.

"You had to leave her, before it got worse. You'd only hurt her," A malicious and unrecognizable voice whispered in Cato's ear.

His finger's paused their monotonous peeling. He finally looked up from the orange in his hands. There was no one in the room.

"You're a freak, it's why I left."

Cato's eyes crinkled with a deep frown. A new voice appeared the disapproving one of his father, the great absentee dad: the abandoner when things got tough.

"It's not right. You know that. God knows that. You're mother was weak, but you're worse. _Diseased_."

Cato's hand clenched around the half-peeled navel orange and tightened with each word spoken.

"Those feelings will never be returned, not when another holds his love." The malicious voice returned with disdain. "They're all out to get you anyways. Thresh, Marvel, Clove… You can't trust anyone."

The merciless voice was finally recognized as something cold and sticky gushed over Cato's fisted hand. He looked down in shock at the pulp and juice he had squelched from the orange in his hand. The voice was distinctly his.

"Mister Ryves?"

Cato twitched and adjusted in his seat to stare at the nurse standing in the kitchen behind him. He didn't seem to recognize her. She approached hesitantly then fell back, pulling her medical briefcase up over her portly chest, her eyes analytical.

"Oh, yeah Octavia?" He asked, clearing his mind and crashing back to reality.

"I finished. Me voy—er I leave now. Everything's good. Are you?" She asked with a thick Mexican accent.

"Fine. Thanks again. I'll see you next week."

He dismissed her by turning back to the table. He listened as her footsteps faded and then his shoulders fell when he heard the click of the front door. He tossed the squished orange onto the table and bent to put his face in his hands before stalling, remembering how they were covered in sticky orange juice.

* * *

Flash photography popped all around them. Left and right paparazzi shouted and competed for the attention of the guests arriving on the red carpet. A white stretch limo pulled up to the entrance to the Panem Grand, a lavish resort style hotel on the beach where Capitol Prep's prom was being held. Out stepped from the limousine Cato in a perfectly tailored tuxedo with a gold tie and handkerchief. He then helped Glimmer step out from their ride. Her hair was expertly curled in luxurious locks that fell from a coiled bun and rested around her shoulders. She wore a beautiful gold dress. The strapless top glittered in the light and the bottom spread out from her waist in shimmering gold tool to her mid-thigh, eschewing the traditional ball gown dress for prom. She did have stunning legs.

Glim locked arms with Cato and they headed down the red carpet together. Next stepped Johanna from the limo in a tight and deep emerald dress with a slit up the side of her right leg. Gloss followed behind her and they made their way into the ballroom, stopping to pose for the paparazzi. Then out stepped Peeta in a tailored silver suit with a turquoise blue vest and bowtie, bringing out the aqua blue of his eyes. Marvel wore a black tux with a silver vest and bowtie to match Peeta and his smoky eyes.

Peeta took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He couldn't help but feel nervous about the night. They would be the first gay couple to attend prom and both Marvel and he were nominated for Prom King. Then that smooth and slightly cool hand slid into his shaky one and the breathing exercise was rendered moot. Marvel had his back. He always did. They walked down the red carpet hand-in-hand. The lights flashed and burst with the rapid shutter clicks of the cameras all around them. Marvel stopped to pose in front of the professional photographer at the end of the red carpet for their prom photo. He held Peeta protectively like they were fighting off hoards of paparazzi and Peeta laughed gloriously only further provoking Marvel's ridiculous antics.

The night progressed with out much incident as they danced by the stage in the center of the crowd. Katniss and Estee joined their group for a few songs with their respective dates to dance and share some of the alcohol they snuck in with a flask attached to the garter around their thighs. Peeta had to laugh at their ingenuity. They too had wanted to sneak in some alcohol, but new that purses would be searched. So they just had a few drinks at dinner before arriving and then planned to party after in their hotel room upstairs. Cato drained most of the contents of Estee's flask earning him a stern look and a slap to the hand.

"It was to share, not to finish!" She told off.

Glimmer had long moved on from hanging with Cato. She had agreed to go with him as friends after he and Clove broke up the week before, but she was not going to have her night ruined by his sulky mood. Which had only turned worse when he spotted Clove seated off to the side of the dance floor. She had shown up to the prom stag and depressed. Johanna tried to get her to dance with them to no avail. It made things very awkward for everyone.

But fortunately everything else was perfect for Peeta. Marvel and he slow danced to Adele's Someone Like You. His stomach felt weightless and his heartbeat fluttered with so much love that he could have just floated away at the end of the song, wrapped in Marvel's arms. When the slow dances came to an end the Principal drew their attention to the stage. It was time to announce Prom Queen and King.

Glimmer came shoving through the crowd to grab Peeta and Marvel and rush up to stage with them. She couldn't have been more excited about the reading of results. She joined the girl's side of the Prom Court with Cashmere, Estee, Katniss, and Clove. On the men's side it was Marvel, Peeta, Gloss, Thresh and last to join on the stage, Cato. He stumbled into Peeta's side and he had to help straighten him. Peeta watched with concern as Cato stared blankly into the crowd before them.

Peeta switched his weight from foot to foot anxiously awaiting the reading of the results. He had not wanted to run on the prom court at all and bitterly fought Johanna's campaign to get his name on the ballot, but now that he was up here he couldn't deny the bug of excitement that had bit him. He would be happy if it was anyone one of his friends though. Just not Thresh.

"And so this years 2011 Capitol Prep Prom King and Queen are…" Principal Heavensbee paused to open the black envelope. "Thresh Fields and Glimmer Demaio!"

Glimmer let out a shrill squeal and stomped her heels against the wooden stage in glee, trotting forward. It was all she ever wanted. If only she could have shared it with one of her best male friends. Clove, Katniss and Estee all congratulated her. Cashmere turned up her nose. Glimmer winked at her then marched to the front of the stage, like a runway model, to be crowned. Johanna catcalled from the crowd.

Peeta's stomach dropped at the reading of Thresh's name. It couldn't have gone worse. They had three out of five spots on the prom court and still lost out to him. They must really have caused their supporters to split three ways while Thresh retained all his friends' votes. Peeta shrugged at Marvel while clapping for Glimmer, oscillating between disappointment and anger only to be floored with shock.

Principal Heavensbee had just crowned Thresh when he turned to rest the sparkling tiara on Glimmer's head. Ever the arrogant bastard, Thresh looked over his shoulder and smirked at Cato, biting his bottom lip and lifting his eyebrows tauntingly. Peeta felt it before he saw it, that's how fast he moved. The air beside Peeta was whipped around him like a tornado as Cato lurched from his side and charged Thresh, tackling him from behind and throwing both of them off the stage.

People screamed in shock and rushed to get out of the way of the now flailing duo. Clove ran to the edge of the stage.

"CATO!" She screamed.

Peeta looked to Marvel in astonishment before they both ran off the stage to help their friend. Cato had the upper hand due to his surprise attack and was punching left and right from atop Thresh who tried to block them with raised wrists. Gloss, Peeta and Marvel reached their friends just as security did and helped pull the two giants apart. But Thresh broke free and tackled Cato and the guard restraining him. They stumbled backwards and knocked Peeta to the ground. Marvel suddenly flipped from neutrality to aggressor and jumped on Thresh's back, putting him in a chokehold while Thresh took kidney shots at Cato stomach.

Johanna helped Peeta up from the floor. They stood and took stock of the discord before them. Glimmer was crying on the stage, her mascara running down her face. Clove was still screaming at Cato. The Principal was shouting for order. A fight might have broken out elsewhere in the ballroom. More hotel security was rushing in as students gave a wide berth to the action, forming a circle to watch from a safe distance.

"Think Marvel will talk with him now?" Johanna asked.

* * *

Estee Woodbury was hosting _the_ graduation party for Capitol Prep seniors. Since Cato's meltdown at prom and subsequent benching (along with Thresh and Marvel) from the final lacrosse Regional games caused the team to loose their shot at the championships they were none too popular at the moment. Katniss didn't have a big enough home, Clove, Peeta and Glimmer's parents were home for graduation, and Gloss never threw parties because his sister Cashmere would probably have a conniption with all the random people in her home.

So the burden fell on Estee and she stepped up in a big way. Her older brother had connections in LA to get them a live band act. It was some indie band Peeta didn't really know, but it was all people were talking about at the graduation ceremony. Peeta drove Marvel, Cato, Glim and Johanna in his Jeep to Estee's after the ceremony ended.

Peeta was extremely glad that it was over. He'd been worried for weeks leading up to the ceremony that his mother would make an uninvited appearance. But luckily she was a no show and so he only had to take a few obligatory photos with his dad and brothers before he could rejoin his friends. Now the real fun could start and god he hoped it all went well. They needed a good night together more than anything.

And things went swimmingly once they arrived.

"SHOTS!" Katniss screamed as soon as she spotted Peeta. "We should totally do some body shots off Estee again! Come full circle, ya know?"

"Why the hell not?" He loudly agreed and then they ran off into the crowd to find Estee and goad her into letting them to take shots off her again like they did at the party beginning senior year.

Most of the party became a blur of activity for Peeta and his friends. They drank more than any could remember in recent memory. Johanna gave Gloss a lap dance on the couch while pouring whiskey in her mouth and then sharing it with him in a kiss. Glimmer and Estee were at the foot of the stage making desperate faces at the male guitarist. They slopped their drinks and tried to push the other out of the way, competing for his attention. Cato and Marvel teamed up against Peeta and Katniss to play beer pong and creamed them.

But then things took a turn for the worse. They had reached the peak of the mountain and the soil was beginning to give way. Soon it would break free in a terrible and violent rockslide to rock bottom.

"Oh shit, did you know she would be coming with him?" Katniss asked Peeta.

He had to lean back because she was too close and his blurry eyes couldn't quite get her in focus.

"Who?"

"Clove! She's here with Thresh!" She hissed.

Peeta's stomach dropped out from beneath him like he'd just plummeted over the edge of a steep rollercoaster. What on earth was Clove thinking, showing up with Thresh on her arm? She must have lost her mind. That or she was completely blinded by her grief and lashing out at Cato in the worst way possible. He remembered how he had asked Marvel if he spoke to Cato after the incident at Prom and he explained how Cato was just stressed about life after high school and his scholarship to UCLA, but Peeta had wondered if there was more. It didn't seem to explain Cato's behavior, but Marvel was adamant his best friend was fine.

Peeta waved at Marvel from across the beer pong table. When he caught his attention he motioned towards Clove, who'd just entered the room with Thresh and was searching, probably looking for Cato so she could walk by and show off who was her date. Marvel got the hint and quickly distracted Cato, taking him outside to check out the band.

Peeta ran to Clove's side and pulled her from Thresh unceremoniously.

"You'll have to excuse us, Thresh, it's a gays and girls thing." He said disparagingly.

Thresh ignored the comment and went to get a drink while Clove ripped her arm free and crossed them, staring at Peeta petulantly.

"_Thresh_? Seriously? Are you trying to kill Cato?"

"I don't see how this is any of your business," She scathingly replied, smoothing out the ruffles Peeta made in her white lace dress.

"It's my business when you do things to deliberately hurt one of my friends!"

"I'm your friend too, Peeta, and I'm hurt!" She yelled. She was inconsolable.

"I know and I'm sorry, but bringing Thresh as your date isn't going to make anything better!" Peeta shouted back. "He's only using you to hurt Cato."

"Of course, I'm not stupid, Peeta."

"You sure could have fooled me."

Clove froze, then narrowed her eyes and spun away from him to find Thresh. He felt shitty for letting his temper get the best of him like that. She was obviously still deeply in love with Cato and reeling from their break up. He should have reached out to her more after they split. Fuck.

He quickly headed outside to look for the others. Estee found Peeta first. She didn't look pleased.

"What is Clove doing?" She demanded.

"Katniss told you?"

"Of course!"

"I'm handling it." Peeta stated.

"I swear Peeta, if Thresh or Cato even so much as look at each other funny I will throw you all out of my party!" She huffed and then walked away.

Double fuck.

Peeta found Marvel and Glimmer by the band with Cato. Glimmer was antsy. She must have been filled in on the situation. Peeta asked her if she knew Clove was planning this. She was insulted he even thought that. He was going to suggest maybe they just leave, have fun elsewhere and away from the threat of trouble, but unfortunately Clove had just come out back with Thresh. Cato spotted them and honed in on the way she draped herself over his arms.

"Uh, Cato, dude, let's check out the… uh…" Marvel trailed off, he had tried, but Cato didn't even hear a word of what he said. He was already storming over to the couple.

"Shit! Someone stop him!" Glim shouted.

"How?" Peeta asked.

They ran and tried to intervene, but Cato just shoved them out of his way. He stopped right in front of Clove. Thresh smirked. He felt real good about himself right then. He lived to knock them down a peg or fifteen. The rockslide looked about ready to begin, the gravel and dirt quickly giving way.

"What the _fuck_ Clove?" Cato raged. She knew exactly what this would do to him. He couldn't believe her. He expected this sort of thing from Thresh, but her? Maybe they really all were out to get him…

She shrunk back only slightly, but managed to hold her ground and tighten her grip on Thresh's bicep. Remorse flashed across her face for no more than a second.

"You don't get to talk to me like that anymore Cato."

Thresh pushed forward slightly and placed a hand on Cato's shoulder.

"Why don't you back off and let me show her what it's like to be with a real man, not some _metro_ Cali douche," Thresh said. Every word reeked of condescension.

Cato began to huff like some big bad wolf about ready to blow some fucking houses down. Peeta looked to Marvel desperately. They were going to have to stop this. But then suddenly a group of guys circled all of them. Everyone looked around confused. None of the faces were familiar. Estee stepped into the circle with Katniss.

"You guys are gone. I warned you. My brother and his friends will escort you from my house. You wont trash my party," Estee said.

"_Excuse me_?" Glimmer squawked, flabbergasted. She was never one to be kicked out of a party.

Cato was still ready to fight so two guys stepped in between Cato and Thresh. Clove pulled Thresh back and said, "Come on, I'm sure we can find something else to do. Your back seat seemed pretty spacious." She looked directly into Cato's eyes as she said it, leaving no room for mistaking what she really meant.

They were all escorted out the front door. Most of the partygoers stopped to stare. It was the most humiliating experience. Johanna jumped up from the couch, swollen lipped and blushing with the heat of her arousal.

"What's going on?" She shouted at Peeta.

"Clove came with Thresh. Estee didn't want a fight between them and Cato. So we're all being thrown out."

"Are you kidding me? I'm so over this!" She was drunk and pissed.

"Come on, we're going to have our own fun at the beach," Glimmer said like it had been the plan all along. Like this party was lame and beneath her anyways.

But Johanna remained. "No, sorry. I'm not letting Cato fuck over my night. Again. We just graduated and I want to have some fucking fun!" She then turned back to join Gloss on the couch, chugging down a large mouthful of whiskey.

Glimmer was outraged, but held her tongue. They all piled in Peeta's Jeep and drove to the beach in silence. Until Marvel declared:

"We just freakin' graduated! Screw this mood, let's have some fucking fun!"

He then opened a bottle of Don Julio tequila and took a shot.

"WOO!" He howled out the window.

Glimmer giggled and quickly joined in, throwing her hands up and screaming out the open window. Cato quirked a small smile and downed some of the tequila before passing it to Glimmer. By the time they reached their favorite cove on the beach the bottle was half finished and they were all three sheets to the wind. They stumbled over their own feet and tripped down to the beach.

The fire pit they often used for small parties just like this still held the half-charred remains of logs from whoever else had recently used the sight. Cato and Marvel worked for fifteen minutes to ignite a bonfire. Peeta and Glimmer shared the bottle of Don Julio and played truth or dare.

"Truth!" Glimmer said.

"Pussy," Peeta hissed.

She squinted one eye at him in her best stank face, but remained steadfast in her choice.

"Okay, fine. It's your grave… When you masturbate do you ever still fantasize about Marvel?"

"PEETA!" Glimmer screeched loudly at his question, utterly dismayed. She was not going to answer that. She internally cursed herself for not choosing dare.

"What? You chose truth."

"I do not masturbate," She declared.

"That's a lie!" Marvel supplied from the bonfire. It was slowly starting to build up in flame. He was obviously listening closely.

"This is bullshit." She huffed.

"You're the one who chose truth," Peeta said mockingly.

"Fine. I have… on occasion." She tore the tequila bottle from Peeta's hand and downed a large portion; unhappy the answer had been pulled from her. Peeta and Marvel both laughed wickedly. Cato even joined in. "Your turn, Peeta." She had a malevolent glint in her eye that scared him.

He thought for a moment and then chose dare, hoping it was the right choice. But her smile told him either way he would have been screwed.

"I dare you to make out with Cato." She was very pleased with the dare she'd devised.

If Peeta weren't already so wasted he would have blushed furiously. Cato almost fell into the fire at Glimmer's dare and Marvel had to catch him before he was burned.

"I don't think—" Cato began, but Glimmer cut him off.

"Nope, nope, nope. No getting out of it. No objections from you Marvel. Peeta does it or I am forever the champion of this game and will hold it over your head until the day you die," Glim threatened.

Peeta watched Marvel to gauge what his reaction to this would be, but he kept his face smooth and void of any recognizable emotion. Peeta on the other hand was visibly ruffled by the dare. Glimmer shoved him towards Cato. His stomach lurched.

"Come on boys, don't make me wait." Glimmer hooted. She stood next to Marvel and whispered, "Don't act like this doesn't turn you on. Your boyfriend's hot. Cato's hot. It'll be sexy."

"Sorry," Peeta apologized to Cato.

"It's okay. I've kissed a guy before." He smiled.

Peeta's stomach clenched again. How did he not know this?

"Oh, okay then…"

Cato closed his eyes. It was the only way he could go through with it. If he saw those lips approaching, if he saw those sapphire eyes… he shuddered a little. Peeta saw and felt guilty for forcing this on his friend. He hoped he didn't make him too uncomfortable. Best just get it over with, Peeta thought, so he pressed forward standing up on his tiptoes.

"Uh, Cato?" Cato's opened his eyes confused by Peeta's question. Peeta smiled at him bashfully. "You're going to have to lean down for me. You're kinda tall."

Cato laughed. He was an idiot. Glimmer was getting anxious and she shouted, "Just do it already!"

Cato went for it. He bent down to meet Peeta's lips. They were surprisingly soft and supple and worrisomely sweet. Peeta's hands fluttered lightly by Cato's arms, unsure what to do with them. Their lips the only things touching. Marvel grunted and Glimmer hooted and hollered in delight.

Then Peeta gasped and jumped back as if shocked.

"Okay, there. Happy Glim?" Peeta asked. He masked his real emotions with resentment, still reeling from the feel of Cato's tongue having slipped into his mouth.

"Very." Glimmer smirked.

She passed the tequila to Cato who took a swig. His pupils were dilated. They all passed around the bottle until it was empty. Peeta was on the precipice of blacking out. He needed to lie down. The stars wouldn't stop dancing above him and it was making him sick feeling. Glimmer and Cato were having the opposite reaction, the alcohol riling them up. They took off towards the ocean to splash and chase each other in the water. They were enjoying the slide to rock bottom, for the moment…

Marvel slithered atop Peeta on the sand. He had a devilish smile.

"I know that sm—ile," Peeta said, hiccupping in the middle of his sentence.

"C'mon babe, Iwannakissyounow." Marvel slurred the words together.

Peeta let Marvel devour his mouth. He was too dizzy to really fight his overzealous boyfriend off. Peeta could feel his hard on pressing against his abdomen and he couldn't deny what his body was still feeling from earlier. They rolled in the sand and kissed passionately. Marvel had his hands down Peeta's pants when Glim and Cato returned.

"Ugh, if tha's how the night's going, lets go back to Cato's!" Glimmer objected at the horny teens.

Cato agreed. It was getting late now and the fire was burning down having eaten up most of its fuel source.

"Well I s—ure can't drive," Peeta hiccupped again.

Cato volunteered to drive. Apparently he felt the most sober. Peeta eyed him disbelievingly when Marvel tossed Cato the keys and he dropped them, but he didn't object. He climbed in the back with Marvel who proceeded to try and make out with him. Glimmer turned up the radio to try and drown out the needy sounds he made as Peeta denied him.

They drove up the cliffs towards Cato's house. It was a long winding road and filled with the blackest of night with no streetlights. There were usually no cars on it so Cato felt safe driving even though he couldn't seem to shake the bleariness from his eyes. He swerved noticeably. Glimmer glared at him not appreciating the jolt, she was fighting her own nausea now. Peeta and Marvel didn't really notice though. Peeta had given in and they were now making out heavily in the back seat.

Cato took the curve too fast. The car skidded, losing traction. He hit the brakes and they squealed loudly. Peeta broke free from Marvel's magnetic lips to glare, along with Glimmer, at Cato. It finally registered to Cato why it seemed even more dark than usual. He didn't even have the headlights on. He turned them on just in time to see Thresh's car, which was pulled off the road to the right and a strong emotion coursed through Cato. He slammed on his brakes again. Peeta and Glimmer both screamed obscenities, everyone's body jolted forward. They'd arrived at rock bottom.

* * *

"I cannot believe you! It's not enough to just be a drunken bastard, but to incriminate my friend like that? I hate you! I really, truly hate you!" Johanna was raging mad. Her face burned tomato red and her hands shook as she waved and motioned for emphasis.

"Calm down, Johanna," Haymitch said. "I'm still you're father and I wont be spoken to like that."

"You haven't been my father since you divorced Mom ten years ago. You're disgusting!" Johanna screeched like an insane bird as she slapped at him repeatedly.

Haymitch gripped Johanna on either side of her arms and held her still until she calmed her fit.

"I know it's hard to think bad of your friend, especially right now, but I know something's just not right," Haymitch tried to explain.

Johanna flung his arms from her and backed away from him, shaking her head in shock. She was disgusted. She couldn't believe it. Everything had fallen apart on her in a matter of days and nothing was getting better as the weeks passed. No one was speaking to anyone. She should have done more that night. If only she hadn't been so selfish and a big whore… It was pointless to think it what ifs, especially when her father had to go and stir up trouble investigating Clove. Now what ifs were rampant in the local news and Clove would have more hell to endure. Thank god the City fired him. He deserved it and worse.

"Clove was raped, Dad. It was self-defense, not murder! No question about it! He always hated Cato and wanted to hurt him in the worst way possible."

"Maybe, but we'll never know now because her parents' lawyers had the City silence me. Now no one will investigate it further," Haymitch tried to step towards his daughter, but she held up her hand for him to stop.

"So what? You thought you'd let slip to the local news your crazy conspiracy theories? Suggest Clove's parents bought off the Mayor's office to get you fired?" She screeched. "Do you know what it's like for a woman to be raped? To have to be assaulted a second time by the police, lawyers and media who interrogate and question her? To say because she was drunk she was asking for it? It's bullshit! And then you go and imply she cried rape to cover up murder? It's disgusting!"

He hung his head, ashamed. He shouldn't have spoken out like that to the news. Clove was a minor and her identity should have been protected. But he felt like he was being stonewalled from completing a proper investigation. He couldn't let the rich in this town control everything anymore. They've had their grip on the local government for far too long and have gotten away with too much. But he might have crossed a line in talking to the news. Now he was fired from his position as Sheriff and further destroyed his relationship with his daughter. She already practically ignored his existence, kept him a secret from her friends, ashamed of him in every way. Now any hope he had of renewing a relationship with her was annihilated. She was fiercely protective of her friends.

"Why did you come here Johanna?" Haymitch asked, deflated. He felt the thirst building in him again, it was never quenched and in situations like these it always got worse.

Johanna froze. She didn't really know. She just new that when she had been sitting at home flipping through the channels on TV and had stopped to see the breaking report on the local news about Clove she'd flown into a blind fit of rage. Next thing she new she was at the dump her father called a home, the garbage pale out front overflowing with empty liquor bottles. She shouted and pounded until he woke up from his mid-afternoon hangover nap.

"I—I don't know. I guess I just wanted to face you. Tell you how vile I think you are and—and tell you I truly never want to see you again." That felt about right to her. She nodded to confirm it.

She then turned her back on him for the final time. He destroyed her family ten years ago when he abandoned her mom for another women. He broke her mother's heart, threw them into poverty and then to top it off turned into an alcoholic and laughing stock of the town as sheriff. This last blunder was the final straw for everyone. The town and Mayor could no longer turn a blind eye to the fool and Johanna could no longer delude herself in thinking one day he might change.

Once in her car she tried calling Clove again. No answer. She tried Cato and no answer, of course. Glimmer, Marvel, neither answered her calls. Then she tried Peeta. He was at least still responding, although he always found reason to cancel any plans she tried to make with him at the last minute. But today, he too ignored her calls. Maybe the end of high school really meant the end of everything she knew.


	9. Doubt

**I hope everyone here in the U.S. had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I know I'm thankful for all my readers. ****Ready for the fallout from Finnick's death? Well I promise I wont drag it out any longer. Here you go:**

Doubt

The jagged silver blade towered high in the air, unwavering in the masked man's grip. It was so well polished I could see my face reflected back at me twisted in fear. The killer's arm twitched and then swung down with the power and inevitability of a falling guillotine, stabbing into Finnick's back and severing his life. Finnick let out a gurgled moan before becoming silent and still. He was finally, mercifully dead. I flinched at the slick sound of the blade piercing his flesh. His life was taken right before my eyes and I did nothing. I just stood there choking in fear. It hung in the air like freshly sprayed insecticide, toxic and pungent.

The black eye holes of the doll mask met mine and I was jolted back to reality. It had only been a few seconds, but they drug on like the hand of time had slowed. Blood slicked off the counter and fell into thick pooling puddles on the floor like the ticking of a clock. Splat. Splat. Splat. It felt like an old western standoff, except I didn't come to this party prepared. We both held our ground waiting for the other to make a move. Would he attack first? Was he waiting for me to run? My brain scrambled to try and figure a way out alive.

Finally I took in a deep breath and then let out a loud scream not caring if it sounded girly, just hoping someone heard. The killer looked at me oddly, but I didn't stick around to see what his next move was. I gripped the kitchen table and pushed it with all my strength at the killer, flipping it on its side in the process as an impediment between him and I. The man jumped back, surprised if that was possible to tell through a mask. Then I ran faster than I had since a child, back when we played games like tag and it felt like life or death dodging whoever was 'it'. In reality it was life or death stakes now as I crashed out the front door in seconds and continued screaming for help. I didn't know if the killer was chasing me. I sure as hell wasn't going to be one of those idiots in horror movies that keep looking over their shoulder only to trip and fall.

I made it to my car miraculously unscathed and fumbled with my keys to get them in the ignition. My fingers had lost their dexterity somewhere between stumbling on a crime scene and coming face-to-face with a masked killer.

"Oh for fucks sake!" I bellowed.

The keys finally slid in after my reprimand. I turned the car on, shifted into drive and slammed my foot on the gas. I raced down the streets to the speed of my frantic heartbeat blowing through two stop signs and a red light. Luckily it was still early and there were not too many cars out driving. Otherwise I may have crashed. Something wet splashed against my arm. I looked in my rearview mirror and to my dismay discovered silent tears escaping my bloodshot eyes.

I had no clue what my destination was until I arrived. The local Panem Police Department. I burst in through the front doors and the man at the front desk spilt his coffee in fright. Then I doubled over and vomited.

* * *

Willingly sipping the hot tea provided to me by one of the deputies I sat stiff in the hallway. Their old wooden chairs conveyed no sense of comfort. I had relayed to them what happened once I regained coherence a few minutes after heaving my stomach juices all over the floor. They worked at the typically slow snails pace of a small town police department. My hysterics did nothing to light their fire or impress upon them the seriousness of the situation I had found. They milled around and chatted about the weather, complacent and ignorant of the fact that a man had been murdered moments ago and before my very eyes. They said the Sheriff was checking it out and that I should sit tight until she had evaluated the situation.

"You should be sending everyone! The killer is probably still in the vicinity. Set up roadblocks, door-to-door searches, what ever it is cops do!" I had shouted only to receive debasing looks.

"Hey, kid. This ain't CSI: Miami, we're working on it."

I felt like a child trying to convince his parents he had grown up and to take him seriously only to fail miserably. That's when I realized I was still wearing my outfit from the rave and probably looked ridiculous, like I'd just walked off the stage of a Cirque du Soleil show. No wonder they weren't taking me seriously. I thought maybe I should call my dad, but I didn't want to create a spectacle (knowing that's exactly what he'd do) before what would probably be a huge police investigation started. Besides I wouldn't want to _disrupt_ his fifteen minutes of fame in LA.

A few strenuously long hours later I was led by one of the deputies into their interrogation room and I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, something was happening. I waited tapping my fingers against the steel table anxiously. Was someone behind the mirror watching me? Were they making me wait on purpose? A terrible thought wormed its way into my mind like a parasite and I fought to push it down, out of sight, out of mind.

Just as I was about to tumble down the rabbit hole of grief the door opened and Sheriff Alma Coin entered. She had lost some weight over the last year, but she was still masculine and gruff in appearance. I'd always secretly wondered if she was a lesbian.

"Peeta Mellark," She inclined her head in greeting.

"Ms. Coin, thank goodness." I replied.

She took a seat before me and laced her fingers. She stared expectantly over her reading glasses like a critical librarian. I immediately ceased my tapping and began to doubt the reasons as to why I was here. The thought fought harder inside my brain, but I still held out hope and ignored it willfully.

"So tell me what happened." She leaned back in her seat, resting her folded hands in her lap.

"Uh, well…" I cleared my throat, nervous. "As I told one of your deputies I went to Finnick's house this morning and I found his door open—"

"And so you entered Mr. Odair's premises?" She interrupted.

"Uh, who? Oh, yeah." I realized that must be his last name, which I never knew. "Well we had made plans to meet at his place after he got off work and I figured maybe he left it open for me." I paused again, expecting another interruption.

"Okay," She rolled a hand for me to continue. I was a getting more confused by the minute. What was with her aloof demeanor?

"So I called out his name and then I heard this, uh, sound in the kitchen," I paused at her look and further explained. "Like the clinking of glass. I went to investigate and there was just… blood, everywhere, and shattered glass like there'd been a fight. Finnick was face down with wounds, but still alive. Then this killer with a mask came in and finished him off with a large hunting knife r-right before me."

"What did this mask look like? And how did you escape?" The Sheriff asked.

"It was like an old fashioned doll mask. It looked porcelain, maybe. It had ruby red lips like… blood. And a crack on the cheek." I shivered at the memory. "To escape I tipped over the kitchen table as an obstacle and then ran to my car and came straight here. That's all I know. I swear."

She nodded and then leaned forward again. I straightened my back. Her eyes were too close together on her face and it made staring into them awkward, but I couldn't break contact with her prying stare.

"Here's the thing Mr. Mellark. I checked out Mr. Odair's property personally after I got the call on my way in on this lovely Saturday morning and do you know what's interesting?" She paused and continued to bore into my eyes like a slow working drill, excruciating as it dug its way under the surface of my skin.

"No, but I think you're going to tell me," I quipped.

She smiled crookedly. "Yes, I forgot that sly sense of humor. We haven't seen you and your friends in some time. I would like to be able to report it's been quieter for us here, but sadly tourism has been up and they do love to get drunk at the beach. Just like you."

The parasitic thought returned with full force in my mind and I could no longer deny its presence. "Excuse me, but am I a suspect here?"

Ms. Coin's waxy lips stretched across her face in a derisive smile. It was hardly reassuring. "Not at the moment. The thing is, Mr. Mellark I found no evidence of any crime having taken place, especially not the murder you have alleged."

I stood up in shock. The metal chair fell backwards behind me and the harsh clang reverberated around the small room.

"_What_?" I gasped.

"Sit." She motioned with her hand to the overturned chair.

I righted the chair and sat back down. I couldn't begin to comprehend what she had just said. This had to be some joke. How did they not see the blood? There was so much! And the glass? The body! My insides were hollow, like they'd been carved out and left me numb.

"I don't understand."

"Well the front door was locked and with out probable cause I could not enter. I checked around the outside of the property and looked in at the kitchen specifically. There was nothing amiss, Mr. Mellark. The table was righted, there was no blood and nothing was broken." She explained carefully. She never took her eyes off me. Her words swirled and built up around me, condensing into a damning humidity causing me to clam up.

"But what about Finnick? I saw him die! He's got to be missing, right?" I couldn't control the rising pitch of my voice. Panic was beginning to set in hollowness of my stomach. What was happening? I know what I saw! I knew that for as long as I lived I would never forget what I witnessed this morning, same as graduation night. Death seemed to haunt me.

"That had me intrigued too. But I'm afraid there is a simple explanation for that too. If you could, please explain your relationship to Mr. Odair for me."

I hesitated. I did not want to explain to her what my 'relationship' with Finnick was. But her stare forced my tongue to betray me. "We were in-intimate."

"Sexually?"

"Yeah…" I blushed.

"That is what I suspected. You see I spoke with some of his coworkers after noticing his car was missing. They all confirmed for me Finnick was planning on leaving town for a bit. None could say where, but one of them did see you two fighting last night at the rave."

I did not like the insinuations I picked up between the lines.

"Yeah, I mean okay we may have shared words. But it was hardly a fight. He had started ignoring me for no reason and I—I wanted answers. He wanted me to tell no one. I—something shady w-was going on…" I said growing more haphazard in my explanation as I watched the Sheriff's face remain frustratingly detached.

"Mr. Mellark, you and your friends were our number one trouble makers during your time at Capitol Prep. I had hoped that college might force you to grow up some, but it seems you are still as self-centered as you were in high school." I recoiled from Ms. Coin as she laid into me. The burn of my cheeks grew more intense with each word, shame settling in my stomach as the panic ebbed.

"Lying to the police is a serious offence. If Mr. Odair wished to stop seeing you it was his prerogative and going to the police alleging he has been killed is _not_ the proper way to handle your bruised ego. And based on your attire and the dilation of your pupils I would hazard a guess that you've been doing drugs. You are what we call an unreliable witness."

I tried to speak, but she held up her hand firmly.

"No, listen here. The police have real jobs to do. We have two missing persons cases to work on and this little wild goose chase you sent me on this morning has displaced valuable resources that could have been focused on finding them. We will try to contact Mr. Odair and make sure he made it to his final destination, but as far as we are concerned here, there is no case. You are free to see yourself out. And I will impress upon you the importance of _thinking_ next time before you act."

Ms. Coin abruptly stood from the table and left me in the room. I remained glued to my seat, mouth gaping like some guppy fish out of water. This was insane. I thought back to early this morning and began to question the reality of it. Had it been the molly? Everything in my memory from taking the molly on had a glossy tint to it, like I had watched it on TV and not really lived it. Maybe there was some truth to what she said. It was odd that the killer had not attacked me or chased me to my car. Then again that could have been so he could clean up before the police arrived. And it was odder still that the man wore the same mask I saw on the dance floor of the club. What the _fuck _was going on?

* * *

"Peeta, what's wrong?" Glimmer gasped when she answered the door.

I was slightly taken aback by the worry on her face, but then when she ushered me into the foyer I saw how disturbed I looked in the large silver mirrors lining either side of the entrance. My face was paler than tissue paper, all color drained from my lips, and there were dark circles under my still dilated eyes like I'd been punched and surprised by it. She too looked rough still wearing her neon bikini get-up and smudged make-up.

"Is Johanna here?" I asked.

"No, she went home with some _bro_. We tried finding you, but—"

"—Good. And how 'bout Clove? I need to talk to you both, something's happened."

She led me upstairs to Clove who was still sleeping on the roll away bed in her room. Clove was not happy to be woken, but from the looks of it she was the only one of us to have gotten any sleep or changed from club attire.

"I only just started sleeping! That molly kept me up all night," She griped.

"I'm sorry Clove, but this is more important. Someone's been murdered." I let the bombshell drop.

The girls reactions were predictably their own. Clove jolted up from bed stunned, but immediately wanting more information. Glimmer fell against the wall with a squeak. She held her hand to her mouth silent and wide-eyed. I explained to them everything. How I had met Finnick the night before my mother's funeral. His odd behavior after we hooked up Tuesday night. That we went to high school with him briefly before he transferred and how last night I thought a masked man was chasing me on the dance floor, the very same one that killed Finnick.

"What the fuck?" Clove swore.

"Dear Versace!" Glim gasped.

"I know and the worst part is the police don't believe any of it. They checked his place. It was all cleaned up by the time they got there. She thought I was just trying to get back at him for bruising my ego or something equally insulting."

I had to sit down. I was feeling dizzy and nauseous again. Clove helped me to her cot, but remained standing. Glimmer pulled herself from the wall and finally spoke.

"Do you think the reason he was killed had to do with why he freaked out on you?" She asked.

Clove looked at her impressed. I was impressed. I hadn't even connected those dots yet.

"That's the most sane thing I've heard all morning!" It was entirely plausible that what Finnick feared got him killed. He was very adamant that no one knew about us. "But what could it have been?"

Clove tossed her hands up. "Hell if I know."

"I don't like this at all," Clove said. "It just doesn't make sense: some of us receiving that post card, Finnick being murdered, a killer stalking you. We're missing something…"

The thread of a crazy thought materialized in my mind. I tugged at it hoping to unravel it further until it was formed in my head. Slowly it emerged as I connected the strand with what the Sheriff said and something Estee said a few days before. Suddenly the thought emerged fully formed and terrifying in its possibilities.

"No…"

"What?" Clove and Glimmer both asked, Glim pleadingly so.

"The Sheriff said they had more important cases to deal with… two missing persons," Glimmer and Clove both held confusion in their eyes, but waited anxiously for me to bring understanding. "Estee came to me Tuesday night before I went to Finnick and accused me or us, our return to town, as the reason behind Katniss's disappearance."

"Katniss is missing?" Glimmer asked startled. Bombshells kept dropping all around her and she couldn't find cover.

"Apparently. Estee said she was going to the police the next day, but then nothing happened and I assumed she showed back up. But what if she didn't? What if Estee went missing before she could go to the police? What if they're both dead too?"

The weight of my words hung heavy in the room like an added layer of gravity. Our posture was slouched and we all breathed heavy.

"Peeta this is insane! A masked killer? Maybe you've been watching too many Wes Craven films!" Glimmer shook her head and backed into the wall again. She couldn't handle it. I was having a hard time believing it.

Clove just turned and walked to the door. "Let's go. We need to find out for ourselves."

I stood and followed her, but Glimmer waffled in her room, unsure whether she wanted to follow. I wasn't going to force her to help, I knew I had no choice; I needed to figure this out now.

Glimmer eventually followed us and we drove in my jeep to 12th street where I knew Estee and Katniss to be renting a small house. I parked in their empty driveway, a foreboding sign.

Clove hopped out immediately and went to the front door. She had moved on from ringing the doorbell to knocking by the time Glimmer and I reached her. There was no answer. We all shared a worried look. Glimmer bit at her nails.

"I'm going to see if a neighbor has seen them recently," Clove said and left us standing on the porch while she walked across the street. I was glad to have someone take charge. I was in no proper state of mind after this morning.

She returned a few minutes later shaking her head.

"The neighbor said he hasn't seen either of them in days. Apparently the police and the girls' parents have already talked to him. They're definitely the two missing persons."

"Shit, fuckity, shit!" I cussed like a foul-mouthed sailor. Glimmer paled. Pretty soon she'd be tissue white like me. The fear was spreading. I worried that if it reached my heart it might stop. It crept through my veins like a slow acting poison, burning its way to my heart and filling me with terror unrelenting and intolerable.

"Well ma-maybe this has nothing to do with us," Glimmer tried to explain it away. "Maybe we're trying to make it about us when it's not at all."

"Either way someone is killing people," Clove replied.

"You don't know that!" She cried. "You don't know anything!"

"Calm down, lets just go back to your place and try not to panic here." I said calm and slow trying not to betray my own panic.

When we arrived back at Glimmer's house ten minutes later I found we were no longer alone. Marvel was waiting by his car.

"Who told him?" I demanded. I was still pissed at him for last night, the mere sight of him causing all the resentment to bubble back to the surface. The fear ebbed slightly as anger spiked hormonally inside me.

"I did! He got a post card too, I thought he should know what was happening," Glimmer said defiantly. Clove watched me closely, perceptive as ever, but keeping quiet.

We went inside and I ignored Marvel when he said hello. Once in Glimmer's living room I let the girls explain to him what the situation was. I was not going to talk to him. As childish as it may seem I was none too eager to forgive him no matter how many pleading faces he shot me. But they soon stopped when Clove informed him of Finnick's murder and that Estee and Katniss were missing.

"Okay let's just take a moment to think rationally," He said. He motioned with both hands downwards as if trying to silence a noisy classroom. I wanted to punch him for trying to act like the rational person in the room. "We don't know everything yet. They could have gone out of town or—"

"Or what?" I snapped. "Don't tell me they all decided to go on a booze cruise together. Three is one too many to be a coincidence. It's a pattern. Someone is killing people."

Clove seemed to agree with me, but Glimmer looked to Marvel as if he were her lifeline. She couldn't handle this new threat. She wasn't strong enough to handle anymore.

"You took molly last night, right?" He asked and Glimmer nodded her head like an obedient puppy. "Are you sure you're not overreacting due to the come down? Molly induces intense euphoria by putting your serotonin production into overdrive. After you come down your body isn't making any and so it can often induce anxiety, paranoia, depression, exhaustion. None of you are in the best state to deal with something like this right now."

"Do not talk down to me right now." I was outraged at Marvel. In fact I might have been seeing red. Everyone was trying to make excuses, brush it off, or outright doubt what I saw. "I did not _hallucinate_ this!"

"I didn't say you were, Peeta." He cringed. His face was laced with sympathy, his silver eyes glowed like soft-brushed metal and I hated it. "I just think you've all had a long night and a rough morning. Maybe if you rested you'd feel better, see things clearer."

Glimmer desperately attached herself to his idea. "Yeah, you know you're so right. I am exhausted. And I do feel anxious, maybe even paranoid! I think we just need to sleep it off. Come back to this well rested."

"Beauty sleep isn't going to fix this." I sneered pointedly at Glimmer.

Clove stepped in front of Marvel and forced my attention to her. "I think getting some rest might be a good idea…" She saw my betrayed look and rushed to finish before I interrupted. "I believe you, Peeta, I really do! It's just none of us have got much rest and we're not going to figure anything out sleep deprived."

"Okay, fine. You guys should all stay together. It might not be safe. But I'm not staying here. I'll get rest at Cato's." I looked pointedly at Marvel and hoped it stung. I hoped it poured salt on his open wound to know that I'd rather seek comfort at his best friends house than with him. Then I left before any more arguments broke out.

* * *

Parked in the roundabout of Cato's driveway I debated whether to call Gale or not. I knew he would believe me, there was no question, but was that selfish of me to involve him in something like this? I didn't need him driving up here and endangering himself over me and I sure didn't need the extra drama with Marvel he'd dredge up. But I yearned for his voice like a sailor felt compelled to a sirens call. Except maybe I was the siren and my call would only lead Gale to a devastating shipwreck on my rocky shores. So instead I put my phone away and went to Cato's front door.

Needless to say Cato was surprised at my unannounced arrival and probably by my crazy rave attire. What was most unanticipated was how he only looked slightly less rough than I did. He had dark circles under his eyes and wore sweat shorts and an undershirt with a questionable stain on the front.

"Peeta, what are you doing here?" He asked.

I couldn't explain why, it was probably as baffling to me as it was to Cato, but I just broke down crying. It actually disgusted me. I had done more crying today than I had in the past year. It was just all too overwhelming. I thought maybe having lived through hell it might have made me stronger, better equipped to deal with things like this, but it wasn't true. I was weak. It was like I'd been cleaved open and all my disgusting innards were exposed, left bare and my emotions visibly tumbling out the open wound. I couldn't hold them in no matter how much I fought. The tears just poured from my eyes like a broken faucet and I hiccupped deep sobs that jolted my body.

"It's a nightmare, everything's a nightmare," I choked out.

Cato didn't say a word. He just moved forward and embraced me. I fell into his strong arms and let him hold me as I shook with the strangled emotions that fought to break themselves free from the shackles of my emotionally dysfunctional body. I clung to his shirt and buried my face in his chest where my tears added to the stains of his shirt.

"Hush Peeta, it's okay. I've got you now." He comforted and slowly guided me into the house.

Next thing I knew we were on a couch in one of his rooms, I couldn't tell which, he had many. He wrapped his arm around me and let me snuggle in the crook of his body. The sobs slowed, but the tears still flowed. Cato was a godsend. He stepped up in my time of need and gave me the shelter I sought, holding me through the thundering storm clouds that pounded me. He didn't prod for answers and didn't try to make me stop or feel uncomfortable. He just rubbed my back and hummed a tune I couldn't place.

I think eventually I ran my tear ducts dry. I was stilled ripped open, but the blood was beginning to clot. My throat felt raw and scratchy like a small animal had raked its claws along the length of my esophagus. I opened my eyes and was practically blinded by the sun. It burst through the back sliding glass doors like a violent intruder. I didn't know what time it was, but the sun's low position suggested it was late evening. We probably still had a few hours of sunlight left, but it made me realize the day was ending and I still had yet to eat anything. I tilted my head up to gaze at Cato and his head was enveloped in a golden halo from the sun, disorienting my frazzled brain, was he an angel? He looked like a mythical being. He should have had a thrown and gold armor and legions of devoted followers. He stole my breath.

"Peeta, you okay?" He asked, rotating his head to the side inquisitively.

"Ye—ah," I croaked. Then blushed. "I could use some water and food. If you don't mind…"

"C'mon. The housekeeper went grocery shopping today." He stood and held his hand out before me. I took it and this time I didn't ignore the butterflies in my stomach as he pulled me to my feet. I just enjoyed the feeling and let them flutter up into my chest, settling light as feathers against my heart. There was nothing wrong with it.

We didn't talk much. He pulled from the fridge all different types of sliced meets and cheeses, condiments, lettuce, tomatoes, jalapenos, banana peppers, anything we wanted. I put together a hodgepodge of meats and produce with some chipotle mayo on a French baguette. He laughed at my odd combinations. I stuck out my tongue. He shoulder bumped me. It was easy and silly and sweet and carefree and everything that I needed at the moment. There were no expectations. We both didn't need them. I was still confused by him, but I put those thoughts to rest for the evening and decided to just exist. Soon enough I'd have to explain everything, but not right now.

Back in the den we ate our sandwiches on the couch and watched reality television. It was mindless and soothed me further. The best part was when Cato let me snuggle back into the nook of his body and his arm draped back over my shoulders comfortably. I wasn't sure when we had become so comfortable together, but I loved it. We stayed like that until nightfall and I couldn't handle another trashy episode of drunken guido's fighting and fucking. Did they not know how repugnant they looked to America? I couldn't imagine ever airing my dirty laundry like that to the world.

"Cato?"

"Yeah?" He looked at me warmly.

"Someone was murdered today. In front of me."

Cato's arm over my shoulders tensed.

"Holy fuck balls."

A laugh inappropriately bubbled from my throat at his reaction. Then relayed for the third time today everything that had happened. I told him about the club, what happened with Finnick earlier in the week and then this morning, and how the police found nothing. He listened carefully and never once interrupted. The only indicator I had that he was even listening to a word I said was when his arm, still draped over my back, would grip by arm, tightly I might add when I talked about sex with Finnick. When I finished and my eyes stung with the threat of more tears he pulled me into another hug.

"Peeta I'm so sorry this happened to you. That must have been terrifying," He said.

I pulled back from him and looked to my feet asking, "So you believe me?" I couldn't handle it if he didn't. I couldn't watch his face. I didn't want him to see me break inside if he doubted me too. I was like fractured glass; splinter lines of doubt laced my body and one more skeptic would cause my fissured glass to break into glittering dust, completely crushed.

"_Of course_, I'll always believe you."

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding and with it I expelled all my self-doubts and fears. If he believed me I could get through this, I could make it.

"Thank you, that means more than you can say."

Our eyes connected and his deep sea blue ones washed away my vulnerability with the tide like he was the moon. He brought me into his orbit and it was impossible to escape. His hand was resting atop mine on one knee and I twisted it so that I could cup my smaller hand around his rough one. His breath hitched and his eyes flickered to our hands, but my eyes stayed the course. I wasn't going to wait for him this time. We might never get it right. He might back down and I could see no end in sight until I did it.

So I leaned forward.

"Peeta…" He warned. His strong squared jaw clenched and unclenched.

I didn't take heed. I kept pushing on. I brought us closer still. His eyes darkened and flicked downwards, towards my lips repeatedly. I don't know why I could so easily read his eyes, but I only had to look at them to interpret the truth of his feelings. They revealed fear, self-loathing and doubt, and most of all attraction. They said don't stop.

Our lips met for the first time in a willing kiss, a kiss that was more than a trivial dare. A kiss in which we both knew there was some truth in our feelings. It was wanted and a long time coming and it terrified me, but I knew I had to finish it.

I held my lips pressed against his unmoving ones. He gasped. His mouth parted. My eyes closed. I slid my tongue in this time and a groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. It might have been trapped in there for years and was only now finally able to escape. It spurred him on and the hand that had a death grip on mine finally released and both his arms reached forward to pull me against his chest. He rolled his tongue against mine. We both tasted of deli meats and Swiss cheese and if it had been anyone else it might have been off putting, but instead it was flawless.

Cato pushed back with authority and his tongue entered my mouth. I brought my hands to his neck and felt his rabid pulse beneath my thumb. I caressed the hairs at the nape of his neck. He forced me back until he was hovering atop me on the couch. I leaned against my elbows, holding myself up to continue moving my lips against his. It was strong and powerful. It was years coming and a spontaneous in the moment thing. I couldn't suppress the needy whimper that escaped my throat and my hips bucked up against his, but he held them too high up. It was an unattainable reach and it pulled further still.

"Cato, no. Don't, not again…" I whispered brokenly.

It was too late. His eyes were closed off from me again, a wall quickly constructed and the creature fought back into its cage. He rolled from on top of me and stood up with his back to me.

"You can spend the night here if you don't feel safe. The guest room is just down the hall from me. There's a nice bath attached if you want to relax, clean up. I can give you some clean clothes too." He offered. It wasn't the offer I wanted, but I wasn't going back to my house alone after today.

"Oh—okay."

"I'll show you your room."

He began walking. I guessed that was it. I stood, turned the TV off and quickly followed otherwise I'd be lost in his mansion. I wondered how lonely it must be to live alone in such a big home. Deep shadows oppressed from every corner with most of the house unoccupied. I raced behind Cato to keep up with his pace, he never once looked back to make sure I was following.

"That's your room. I am just two down on the left." He pointed for me.

"Thanks."

He looked anywhere but my eyes so I nodded and entered, closing the door behind me. There might have been a faint, "G'night, Peeta," called out, but I couldn't have been sure. My heart might have heard the words spoken, but my mind disregarded the sound.

* * *

Marvel's chest itched with anxiety like a rash had bloomed across his unblemished skin. He hated how things were between Peeta and him. It left bile in his throat. He wanted to do something, but the girls didn't want him to leave, afraid of spending the night alone. The girls had tried napping all afternoon and it had been nice and quiet until Glimmer woke up and decided to be particularly insufferable.

"I had some really loopy dreams, I bet it was the molly," She said. She was curled up on a brightly upholstered armchair and still trying to find explanations for this morning.

Marvel grunted in response.

She continued, "I'm never doing that stuff again. Johanna is crazy, I can't keep up with her."

"That's nice," Marvel mumbled. Flipping through the channels on her TV aimlessly. The room was dark, the only light cast from the television set. It flickered disrupting lights across the room. From Clove's spot across the room it reminded her of the flickering light show at the rave.

"You know it's kind of convenient that Peeta didn't get a post card. And he _is_ the only one to supposedly see this masked man kill Finnick. He's also the last one to have seen both Estee and Katniss…" Glimmer said from her chair. She wore a frown typical of when she was thinking, like it actually pained her to put so much thought into something.

Marvel's skin bristled at Glim's suggestion.

"Just shut up, Glimmer. Before you short-circuit that brain of yours. It's not meant for so much use." Clove snapped at Glimmer from the other side of the room. She was staring out the giant bay windows towards the bluffs and the ocean. She held her arms wrapped around her body. She turned to face Glimmer with an expression like a lioness ready to protect its cub at all cost. She wasn't sure why she felt so protective over Peeta. She wished someone had protected her, stood up for her, Peeta had tried once, but he was greatly outnumbered. She wasn't going to let him be outnumbered now.

"Oh fuck you! You know it's entirely possible!" Glimmer bitched back.

"Unicorns are entirely possible in your brain," Clove retorted.

"I can't stand another minute in here with you two! I'm going for a run. I need to clear my mind." Marvel said standing to his feet abruptly.

* * *

Half an hour later I was soaking in a steaming hot bath. The mirrors in the room were all fogged with condensation. Steam rose at a ninety-degree angle from the tub. There must have been some air current coming from under the door that pressed the steam in such a direction. I sank in the warm water up to my neck and rested my head on the generously offered cushion built into the spacious bathtub. The lights were harsh and reflected from all the gleaming surfaces, the freshly polished steel faucets, the marble floors, and the white ceramic tub.

Basking in the warmth of the water my mind began to wander. It worked like a video reel. It repeated for me all the awful moments of the past day: the masked man at District One chasing me through the crowd and fog; Finnick's blood stained kitchen, his dead body; the masked man killing him; the disparagement by the police; the kiss.

I brought wet fingertips to brush against my lips. Why did Cato continue to run from me on this? This couldn't be just one-sided. There had always been something there, a connection. I was beginning to distrust my own feelings and thoughts.

My fingers wondered along the side of the tub. They stopped to feel the outline of a protrusion from the ceramic. I opened my eyes and noticed this was a jet-tub. The bathtub was inset in tile and I searched around it until I found the button to turn on the jets. There was a groan as the piping worked to push the air and water into the tub. Then the bath began to bubble and fizz with the jets shooting from all angles. I relaxed as it worked to massage my skin. I could get used to a tub like this.

The jets made a loud gushing sound and sloshed the tub about. Among the sounds a faint hissing was detectable. I sunk my head beneath the surface of the water and let one of the jets that massaged my back work against the back of my skull. I opened my eyes beneath the water and looked up at the world above me, distorted by the ripples of the water. A shadow passed over me.

I shot up from the water with a gasp. I quickly wiped the water from my eyes and whipped around looking for the source.

"Cato, is that you?" I asked.

The door to the bathroom was cracked. I know I had closed it all the way. I prayed this wasn't some type of joke. If he thought making light of the situation I endured today would make it easier to handle he was sorely mistaken.

"This isn't funny." I said and stood from the tub.

The water splashed to the floor as I stepped out. I pulled the towel around my body and moved towards the door. The further I stepped from the noise of the jets the more distinct the hissing sound from earlier became.

* * *

Bent down tying his shoes Marvel moved into flexing and stretching. He hadn't gone for a run in a while so it was important to ease into it. He jogged down Glimmer's drive way and then quickly diverted off the gravel and to the spacious green of her yard. He figured he'd lap the house a few times and run by the cliffs of her back yard for scenery, not wanting to venture too far from the girls.

He picked up the pace from a brisk jog to a run as he made it to the back yard. The waves could be heard crashing not too far below. Glimmer was lucky that the bluffs her house backed up to were not too high making them scalable enough to trek down to the beach if they wanted. Cato, only a short distance north of her home, was on much steeper cliffs. He couldn't get to the beach unless he got in his car and drove. Fog was beginning to roll in from the ocean and collecting against the bottom of the bluffs like tufts of cotton, slowly building up towards the house.

Thinking of Cato made his mind drift to Peeta. Everything always came back to him. He couldn't let go. There was no end for them he knew it. They were it. He just wished Peeta could see it. He was everything to Marvel. He'd been watching him since they were children, before he even knew what gay meant. He had always wanted to protect him, from his mother, his bullies. One day Peeta would know everything he did for him and maybe that would change his mind.

Marvel looped around the house two times and was going for a third when the floodlights for Glimmer's backyard suddenly shut off. They had motion sensors so he waved his arms to try and retrigger them, but nothing happened. It was now almost pitch black with very little moonlight. He figured this would be his last loop and then he'd head back inside. There was a stiff breeze from the sea, a nor'easter that was probably causing the booming crash of waves he heard beneath the fog, which was now crawling up onto the lawn. He passed close by the edge of Glimmers property and looked out at the blanketed ocean to his right. There were only a few feet between him and the rocks.

* * *

I pressed forward towards the cracked door to the bedroom. The hissing had stopped. I thought I saw a shadow flit across the floor beneath the door, but I wasn't sure. My eyes could have been playing tricks on me. My brain was still operating on zero sleep.

"Cato, please let it be you…" I whispered in fear.

I inhaled a deep breath, stomped down my nerves and thrust the door open with an open palm. Then I jumped back and watched as the door swung out to reveal an empty bedroom. I crept from the bathroom and looked around the room. The ceiling fan droned above the room and the blades caused blinking shadows to flit around the room like hellish spirits. I breathed a great sigh of relief. The room was empty. The hissing sound unidentified. I was being such an idiot today.

I turned back into the bathroom. I went to the tub, needing to drain it. I reached across to press the button built into the tile that would shut off the jets. Suddenly the hissing returned in brief intensity before it was replaced with a shriek like a crazed animal and then I heard the thud of feet as they ran towards me. Before I could turn to defend myself I was attacked from behind and thrown forward into the tub. Everything was muted by water. My head hit the bottom of the tub and I was disoriented. I thrashed wildly trying to right myself, but the attacker had surprise on their side and pressed to hold me under. I tried to push up with my hands from the bottom of the tub but claws from the attackers fingers dug into my body and held on with great strength and deadly intent, they wanted me to drown.

* * *

The phone rattled against the dresser in three quick pulses. Gale perked up from his spot on the bed. He was lying on his stomach propped over his iPad. He hopped from the bed and went to check his phone. Left behind on his bed the iPad showed he was flipping through tagged photos on Facebook of Peeta and him.

He had a few ideas of who could be texting him. So when he checked his phone he was confused to see it was a text received from an unknown number. He opened the text and it was just a picture. He touched it to make it full screen.

"What the…?"

The picture was taken at night so it was dark and grainy, but the light that came in through the window next to the bed helped illuminate it's occupants face. Someone had sent him a picture of Peeta asleep in his bedroom. He racked his mind for an explanation. Peeta couldn't have taken it; he seemed sound asleep and completely unaware that someone was taking the photo. He tried calling the number, hoping to get an explanation.

"Hello?" Gale asked when the ringing stopped. Someone had answered, but they did not speak. He could hear their shallow breath on the other end. It was like the groan of air escaping piping in the walls. "Peeta? Is this some prank call?"

"They will all pay," A deep and gravely voice finally spoke and it sent chills down Gale's back. It was filled with contempt, but also the hint of pain, of loss. "I will bleed them dry."

Click. The line went dead. Gale tried calling the number again, but only got a dial tone. He stared at his phone willing it to explain what had just happened. Then he called Peeta. There was no answer. He left a message.

"Peeta, call me back as soon as you get this. I need to know you're all right."

He hung up and sat at the edge of his bed. Peeta had always kept his past a secret, never really sharing much about his life in high school. But Gale knew that something must have happened to trigger his self-destructiveness. The worry built in Gale like a wildfire. It burned through him, eating up the underbrush and burning faster with its fuel, out of control and scattering all his other thoughts like woodland creatures running for safety until he couldn't stand to sit still. He could not handle the thought of Peeta in danger. He had to do something.

**So who is still with me? Glad to have returned to the action? As always I love to hear from you about what you are thinking and I would say I gave plenty to think about this chapter!**


	10. To Love Is To Lie

**Thanks for all the love, here's another eventful chapter.**

To Love Is To Lie

Breaching the surface for a moment then an elbow hits between the shoulder blades and suddenly I'm re-submerged—the chance for a gasp of breath stolen. Water stung like a thousand tiny needle pricks as it was forced up my nose. The crying of a child echoed from the depths of my mind, rising closer and closer to the surface that I fell from.

"_Mommy!" Eight year old me shouted, running into the room with short legs and flailing limbs. "Ry won't let me play Xbox with him!"_

"_Oh Jesus, can't mommy ever have some peace and quiet? All you do is whine and beg," Mother ranted cruelly from her spot on the couch. She was always on the couch anymore, usually smoking and drinking, regardless the time._

_I foolishly ran to her side and tugged at the leg of her pants. I could sense she was slowly changing from the woman I knew before her injury, but Moms were supposed to make it better. They were supposed to make it even between siblings. I had yet to learn to fear her temper and her hand. I would soon._

"_Ouch! Fucking Christ, Peeta!" Mom shouted, arching her back. I withdrew my hand frightened by her outburst. She raised the back of her hand ready to swing. I jumped back and just out of reach. "Come here you little shit."_

_I pouted and shook my head. She leaned forward and growled. Her top lip vibrated and curled back revealing smoke yellowing teeth. Then she changed tactics. "I'm sorry baby, Mommy didn't mean to frighten you. She should know better than to use potty words. You know I have a bad back and that you need to be careful with me…"_

_Holding my hands to my belly and feeling guilty, I still stood a safe distance from her grasp, but edged infinitesimally closer. A sharp feline smile spread across her lips. She pointed at the coffee table her feet rested upon._

"_Peet Peet, baby, Mommy needs more of her pills and her lighter," She said saccharinely, sweet enough to give a toothache, while pulling one of her menthols from behind her ear._

_At eight years old I didn't know what abuse was. I thought I was just being punished for being a bad boy. It's what she said, why wouldn't I believe it? You're raised to intrinsically trust your parents. There's nothing they wouldn't do for you, right? They're supposed to love you unconditionally, defend their child no matter what; never are they supposed to be the villain of the story._

Blackness crept in around the edges with my mother's poisonously sweet voice. Once my brain shut down, once I passed out from the lack of oxygen I knew it was all over. My mother was waiting. She would have me once again. Even in death she waited to torment me. I guessed somewhere deep down I always knew she was waiting for me in hell. I would never be free.

Breathing was inherent, not a conscious process and once unconscious my body would try to inhale, desperate for oxygen and it would kill me. The thought that even though someone was holding me under I would be the one that ended it disturbed me more than being drowned. My body would betray me and draw in, suffocating my lungs with stale soapy water and I could not stop it.

I was fading. My lungs screamed for oxygen. My muscles ached and revolted, no longer fighting back against the monster that wished to snuff the light out of me. The demented wail of my attacker could still be heard muffled through the water above me like the principal's distorted announcements over Capitol Prep's speaker system. The towel was soaked and twice as heavy around my body working like glue, constricting me and adding to the unstable pressure building in my body. My vision continued to fade. There was just a small pinpoint of light left. My lungs were a pinprick away from bursting.

Then the pressure was gone, the weight lifted as if God's hand had come and plucked me from the depths of hell. Salvation. My mother would have to wait a little while longer before she got to sink her claws back into me.

Realizing I was free I quickly sprung upright and out of the water with a desperate gasp for air, throwing the adhesive like towel from my body. My lungs filled with the much-needed oxygen, singing sweet praises, as I coughed and sputtered. Collapsing naked and spent against the outside of the cold ceramic tub I fought to catch my ferocious breath, which sounded asthmatic. I was faintly cognizant of something coming to rest against my bare foot, but I did not look.

Sounds like wet serpents flopping against the tile alerted me to the fact that my attacker was just to my right. I turned to watch with clinical detachment, too depleted to be shocked. Cato was struggling on the ground backed up against the sink cabinets and soaked like the women he held in a tight bear hug. She thrashed and hissed. Her badger colored hair matted to her head and her cobalt eyes paradoxically lifeless and dull like an unpolished gem compared to the ferocity of the fight she put up.

"The dolls, THE DOLLS, they told me to! He wanted to harm them! slash, BREAK, TEAR!" She screamed incoherently. Spittle flew from her mouth like a rabid dog as she continued to hiss. I flinched at the sight of it.

"Cato, _who_ is that?" I wheezed.

Cato barked through gritted teeth, "The syringe!"

My eyes alighted on the hypodermic needle that rested near my foot, but my brain couldn't put it together, still too waterlogged. The woman bit down on his arm drawing blood and he cursed.

"DUDE, PEETA!"

Comprehension hit me like a freight truck and I kicked the needle across the floor to him. He stole the syringe from the floor in a flash and jabbed it into her arm. It sunk into her pliant skin and doped her with its contents until the hissing subsided, like the fading whistle of a kettle pot. Then she fainted against his shoulder.

"I'm so _sorry_, Peeta." Cato winced, panting and still grasping the woman fiercely to his chest even though she began to snore, clearly no longer a danger. "So, so sorry…"

He tugged the limp woman up in his arms as he stood. She hung like a drenched rag doll. He dragged her from the bathroom, eyes averted from my naked form. She wore a paisley nightgown with lace fringe that was yellowed with age and had silver-white scars lacing the lengths of her upper-arms. She wore no shoes. Who was this woman?

"Wait here, I promise I'll explain everything. Let me just put my mother away."

* * *

"Glim, did Marvel leave?" Clove stood in the doorway of Glimmer's spacious bathroom. Italian marble decorated the countertops and walls, the sinks and light fixtures were a polished stainless steel, and her shower was large enough to entertain a large group of guests.

"D'no," Glim answered around a mouthful of toothpaste. Her sandy blonde hair was neatly braided for bed, reaching the mid-point of her back. She spit in the sink and rinsed. Looking back up Clove was gone.

Glimmer scampered after her raven-haired friend into the bedroom. Clove dug through her purse and pulled out her phone, swiftly dialing a number.

"Who are you calling?"

"Marvel, who do you think?"

"Oh." Glimmer pressed behind Clove. She invaded her space trying to listen in, but there was no answer on Marvel's end of the line. Clove turned and smashed into Glimmer.

"Christ!" Clove shouted.

"Sorry!" Glimmer back peddled out of the way. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm going to look for him, obviously. It's been over an hour and he's still not back." Clove answered, her face contorted with acidic exasperation. Glimmer was like sandpaper to her patience today, quickly wearing it down.

Glimmer twisted the end of her shirt, uneasy, like she was wringing a sponge dry. Clove twisted on her heals to turn and stare poignantly.

"I'm not going alone. There's a serial killer on the loose." Clove said like it was a perfectly reasonable statement. But Glimmer followed, the decision having been made for her. Clove shouldn't even have to say something. With a killer out there no one should be splitting up, they'd all seen the _Scream_ series in a marathon sitting one year for Halloween. Marvel was an idiot for having gone on a run.

"Do you have flashlights?"

Glimmer nodded and dove into a drawer at her desk, scrounging about until she pulled from it a plastic pink child's flashlight.

"What?" Glim asked defensively at the sarcastic gape she received from Clove.

"Nothing, _princess_."

* * *

The leather creaked as he pulled the straps taut against his mother's wrists. Cato hated when he had to bind her to the hospital bed, but it was a necessary evil at times like this. She was a danger to herself and most of all Peeta.

"FUCK!" He bellowed and punched the mattress next to his mother's thigh. Her fresh nightgown had ridden up when he settled her on the bed. He tucked it down as if to protect her decency, from who he wasn't sure. Then placed a quilt over her and tucked it in around the sides. It was an overly cheerful design with a floral pattern of rose pinks, sunflower yellows, and purple violets.

He berated himself for not having checked to make sure she was put away properly for the night. The housekeeper was supposed to lock up every time she left the room, but he always checked in on her before bed. But then Peeta and that kiss— He shouldn't have allowed it to progress to that, but then he'd fought for so long he couldn't deny himself a taste, not again. Unfortunately something had now awoken in him. It had been dormant for so long until Peeta came back into his life. Now it had a taste of freedom it wouldn't be fought back down, not until satisfied.

His mother moaned in her sleep. He dabbed at her wet forehead with a washcloth from by her bed. He placed it back on her wardrobe and noticed one of her dolls was missing. His eyes swept across the room until he found it by the windowsill. He picked up the small figurine and returned it to its place on the dresser before leaving.

The doll sat nestled in a vast and uncomfortably conspicuous collection of porcelain figurines. They lined the wardrobe and the walls of the room in varying sizes, hair colors, and shapes, upright and glass eyed. Each one had creamy porcelain skin, ruby lips and black marble eyes. The one he had picked up was damaged with a chip missing on its right cheek. Cato wasn't sure if that was new or it had always been that way. Cato rather disliked her dolls, they all seemed to stare at him with their dead eyes—damning.

* * *

I felt like Dorothy. I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. This land was alien and hostile and remarkably different from the homeland I thought I knew even though it was populated with the same characters from home. There was a masked homicidal lunatic on the loose, Finnick was killed before my very eyes, the police refused to believe me, Katniss and Estee were missing (if not dead) and Cato's mother had just tried to drown me. What next world?

Dry and dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a black under shirt Cato had offered me earlier I waited for his return. The guest bed was plush and supremely comfortable, enveloping me with the soft buoyancy of what I imagined a cloud would feel like. The exhaustion of having been up for some thirty-six hours now was beginning to set in as the adrenaline faded like the crash from a sugar high. I fought it desperately, afraid that the moment I closed my eyes the terrors of the past day would catch up to me, that the killer would find me.

A sudden vision of the jagged hunters knife slicing out across my throat with a spurting fountain of blood that painted the cream colored walls like street graffiti. I jolted upright with a ragged cry.

"Peeta!" Cato called out, "What's wrong?" He slewed into my room. A towel swung from his clasped hand, his damp hair in wisps of disarray.

"I'm fine, I just startled myself, sorry." Blood pumped in my ears like the rush of a jetliner, but otherwise I was fine. He stood awkwardly in the doorframe like a timid giant, hesitant to cross the threshold. "Come in, please."

Cato eventually came to stand next to the bed. "I'm so sorry, she's not well, but if she had done something—if I hadn't heard the thrashing…" He reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his palm. I leaned into it, cherishing the warmth. Even though his mother had just tried to drown me I couldn't stand him being in pain over me. It knotted my stomach like tangled vines, their thorns digging deeper into my abdomen the longer he held such a tormented gaze.

"It's okay, I'm _okay_. I promise." The words seemed to bring a little light back to his eyes, no longer the stormy color of a turbulent sea.

Pulling on his arm I forced him on to the bed with me. He sat and dropped the towel at the bedside, but snapped his arm back to his lap as if scalded leaving a smear of blood across my hand. My eyes raked him over for a wound and settled on the bite from his mother.

"Let me take care of that," I said, ignoring his flippant words and searching through the cabinets of the bathroom.

Shaking the bottle of antiseptic before him I goaded him to relinquish his arm into my care. "C'mon, Cato. Let me patch up your boo-boo."

He rolled his eyes at my baby talk and held out his arm. I suppressed the smirk that tugged at the corners of my mouth like snared fishhooks.

"I should be the one coddling you after," he gesticulated with his left hand, "everything." I firmly gripped his right hand and sprayed the solution. He hissed, the stinging substance foamed in the bloody pits left by his mother's teeth.

"These are deep, she must have bit hard." I stated, wiping gently with a cloth to clean away the blood and foaming solution.

"I've had worse." Cato said with surprising candor and it didn't even bear the hints of resignation. It was just a fact of life for him.

I sprayed the antiseptic one more time to be safe; mouths held a lot of bacteria. This time I rolled my eyes at his dramatic reaction.

"So, care to explain to me about your mother?" The word felt thick on my tongue, but I thought might as well keep him sharing while he was in the mood—he had _promised_.

Cato visibly cowed like an abused dog. It was distressing and the thorny vines of my intestines constricted. "Sure… I've been lying to everyone. She's a very sick women." I adjusted Cato's wounded arm and leaned closer; focusing intently on the words he spoke. He correspondingly pulled backwards like we were the opposing ends of a magnet. His lips were a tight line across his face, strained as he spoke.

"Karrie, my mother, was always an odd women," said Cato, "beautiful from afar, but the closer you got the more indistinct she became like a study in pointillism. Father said it was her mystique that drew him in when younger. He couldn't deny her pull, her radiance. But a few years after my birth she started unraveling. She grew paranoid people were out to get her. She began collecting dolls and thought they talked to her. They were like her security system. As a child I thought it was just a game, but soon realized by Father's reaction when I brought it up at dinner that none of it was just fun and games."

Cato's eyes turned to smooth sea glass, fogged over with the memory of days past. His one idle hand quickly occupied itself by twisting at the sheets we sat upon. I picked up the tube of Neosporin and dabbed it on his cleaned wound. "By the time I was nine she began having violent episodes and developed a hissing tic. Sometimes it was like I was living _The Exorcist_. I thought she _was_ possessed. Eventually we couldn't let her leave the house.

"Finally my father, who had refused to deal with her situation for years, relented to my begging and the housekeeper's many pleas. He flew in a doctor from out of state, not wanting anyone to catch word that his wife was sick. It took the doctor a month to come to the diagnoses of schizophrenia—"

"Wait, she has multiple personalities?" I interrupted, completely floored and incredulous, dropping the gauze I was wrapping around his forearm. It seemed like a reach. People didn't really have that. It was just something the movies made up.

He shook his head with a slight chuckle, but not quite meeting my blinking stare. "No. That's what I thought it meant too, but that's actually dissociative identity disorder and extremely rare. Schizophrenia is, well it's hard to explain, but it's a chronic and severe disabling brain disorder. It makes it hard to tell the difference between what is real and not, to think clearly, act normally in social situations, and have normal social responses. There are different types, but it generally can cause auditory and visual hallucinations, anxiety, and paranoia among other symptoms." He hazarded a look at my eyes, prying, trying to gauge my reaction. Unsure where I actually stood with all this I just focused on wrapping the bandage tight against his arm.

He continued, "The doctor put her on medication, but she was just too far-gone mentally. It was like her body was still here, the same as always, but her mind was thrown into another dimension. One where her wildest fantasies and paranoia's were true, her view of the world completely distorted. We could only hope to contain her and make her as comfortable as possible.

"Meanwhile Father eventually retreated to his work, often leaving home for weeks. Now I never see him. He has condos in the cities he works most. He can't bear to see Karrie or me…" He whispered the last word with the fragility of a man on a ledge. I wanted to offer a hand, to help pull him back, but was not sure he'd accept it. I was not even sure I was stable enough to pull him back at the moment. "He is disgusted by her disease and terrified of what others will think. That's why she is here instead of an institution. He sends a monthly allowance and I take care of everything. Everyone who works here signs a strict non-disclosure agreement. The nurse you saw a few days ago does multiple check-ups a week and Karrie is relegated to her room on the second floor, north wing—"

"The room you found me outside of…" I interrupted again, understanding dawning on me like the rising sun to disperse the confusing haze of his behavior. I let his freshly bandaged arm drop back into his lap.

He nodded and wept the sweat from his brow. "I'm sorry for that. She's kept locked in there and typically drugged for her own safety as much as everyone else's. As you well now know. When I found you near her room I freaked, afraid you'd tug at the string that would unravel everything."

"Cato, why did you never tell us?" I wondered, amazed. How could we have never known this? How could he have kept such a monumental secret from his friends? It must have been exhausting to carry such a burden as this all the time, especially with his father having abandoned him.

He dropped his face between the palms of his hands and released a despondent sigh. With his hunched shoulders and face hidden in his hands he looked like a broken child as twisted and thinly worked as the sheets we sat upon. "I was ashamed. I still am. Look what she just did! She tried to drown you for god knows what reason. Oh right, because the _dolls_ said so!" He shook with the restrained rage of his outburst. An untamed lion caged. I cowered back at the sight of it.

"Also because it can be genetic. Her aunt, my great aunt, had the disease and was institutionalized in the fifties where she committed suicide. This disease rarely has a happy ending… So you see I fear… I fear I may inherit it."

I paled to the color of the tangled white cotton sheets. Could this be it—the explanation for his behavior? I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat; it was coarse and prickly like a pinecone lodged itself there. The silence stretched on until Cato pulled up from his cupped hands to look at me. His face never looked so haggard, almost like an old man's face, one that had lived through many years of personal agony. His blonde hair had even dulled to the color of ashen gold. It rendered a picture of lost hope.

"Cato you need to seek treatment. This may explain so much of your actions. You might already have contracted it." I spoke, rushed like a fierce wind, hoping to get it out before I lost my nerve. Cato bristled.

"You don't just contract it," He barked with a cold and mirthless laugh; cold in the sense that it vacuumed the warmth and intimacy we'd been building up in the room. Winter descended in its place. "Besides, someone has to look out for my mother, I can't just go seek treatment and abandon_ her_ too."

"You wouldn't be abandoning her, Cato." I tried to make him see. He was still—we both were still just kids. Things like this couldn't be left in our inexperienced hands. "Besides, someone has to take care of you! It's not fair this should all rest on your shoulders."

"I can handle this on my own!" He shouted, rising from the bed and towering over me with his large frame daunting like a gothic spire piercing the night sky. I recoiled. "I've been doing just fine long before I told you anything, don't go thinking you can stick your nose where it doesn't belong just because I shared this with you."

"I don't know if I'd consider this _handling_ it." I challenged, rising to my knees on the bed, meeting the brooding stature of Cato. "You're mother nearly drowned me and your behavior is clearly not that of a 'healthy' man." I used finger quotes for the word. Cato fell back from me. He looked to be the one drowning now and I lent a hand, offering to save him like he did me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be that harsh, I just… _care_ for you Cato," I voiced softly, knowing I was stepping boundaries intricately laid by Cato for the sole purpose of refusing these undeniable truths. He rejected my hand and closed up at my words. I could see the door shutting behind his eyes.

"You can spend the night here, but we will not talk of this anymore. And you're a smart dude, so I don't think I need to impress upon you the consequences of breathing a word of this to anyone."

Cato then stormed from the room, slamming the door shut and seeming to seal our fate. I slid from the bed, the sheets making that crisp sound from stiff lack of use, and walked to the door. My hand hesitated at the knob like a barrier held it back before I chose to rest against it. My face fell flush with the soft painted grain of the door miserably. I thought I could here the ghost of a breath on the other side, but dismissed it as my mind playing tricks, imagining what it wanted and knew I could never have.

* * *

"MARVEL?" The girl's voices rang out in the fog like the tolling of bells.

Glimmer clung to Clove's arm like a scared child, even though she was a couple inches taller than her and more femininely developed. The small pink flashlight barely penetrated the thick fog that had rolled in for the night. It was like trying to use a butter knife to cute through a tough steak. The air smelled sharp of ozone and salt air.

"Maybe he did go home." Glim suggested. "I got the impression him and Peeta had a fight."

"Congratulations, you just noted the obvious," Clove said, tugging her on like she was pulling along a disobedient pet. "But he didn't leave. He might be lost in the fog. Come on, we've got to find him."

Each step was hesitantly placed, both afraid where they may land in the ethereal mist. It swirled up and around them in the thick tendrils like ghostly spirits. The girls both shivered from the wet moisture, which had caused a startling drop in temperature despite the heat of the past week. They moved across the back lawn of Glimmer's property. The flashlight skimmed back and forth across the land, illuminating nothing more than water beaded grass.

"Wait!" Glim cried out. Her nails dug into the flesh of Clove's arm and she tried to jerk free of the grasp, "Ouch!" But Glimmer clung on like a leech to her skin.

"Back, over there!" Glim pointed. Clove scanned the horizon to the left with the flashlight and stalled as it swept across a black object. They both hurried to the item that stood out on the cleanly manicured lawn. Waves could be heard slapping against the shore not too far off like wet towels flopping atop tile.

Clove bent to pick up the shoe. It was the black Nike's Marvel had been wearing earlier. "Where's its mate?" Clove studied the shoe and felt something wet against her hand, thicker than water.

Freeing Clove from her clawed grasp, Glimmer wondered a few steps ahead of Clove. Her face held a deep apprehension, her eyebrows disappearing behind her swoop of bangs. The fog thinned with the open air past the bluffs edge where she stood and both hands slapped to her cheeks in a picture of horror perfectly emulating the famous Edvard Munch painting.

Clove dropped Marvel's shoe in fright—her fingers bloodstained—at the bloodcurdling scream that pierced the thick night air. Her flashlight swung in a wide arc until it placed Glimmer in the distance and she rushed to her side.

"NO, MARVEL!" Glimmer screeched hysterically.

"What is it? What has happened?" Clove shouted and shook Glimmer, but she remained inconsolable. Clove followed her line of sight and jumped back, realizing she was at the precipice of the bluffs, but worse still was the shadowy form settled haphazardly across the sandy shore below. Her face paled to the translucent consistency of the fog swirling madly around her. She aimed the light down and it illuminated the fog in a glowing aura of unearthly light that revealed what lay weltering in blood and pink tinged sea foam.

Another raspy scream stretched elongated in pain and grief from Glimmer's throat at the now perfectly visible sight of Marvel's bloodstained body.

* * *

Sleep wasn't coming. After the day I had with no sleep the night before and the crash from the molly one would think I'd fall right into a deep, soundless sleep. I almost did moments before Cato came back to my room, but now with our conversation playing on a loop in my brain I found it near impossible to lure the elusive sandman to my bed.

I tossed and turned in bed unable to find the off switch for my brain. The world was turned upside down—I was sure of it—and because of it deadly secrets kept breaking loose and raining down upon me. The lies of my life had grown far too many in number to keep track. The places I used to seek shelter no longer fit me; Marvel, my family, my friends, school.

A light from the hallway seeped under the door to the bedroom, which I only noticed when it became blocked by a shadow that stood on the other side. My body tensed, drawing in on itself like a snail into its shell. The brass doorknob slowly twisted clockwise with the steady creak of age. I pushed myself upright against the headboard and waited to greet my intruder. I was still and rigid as a plank of wood.

The door swung inward and my body went lax, the stiffness receding with the tide that washed away all my fears because it was Cato. He stood in the doorjamb blocking the light of the hallway. His large shadow reached across my bed to greet me first. Neither of us spoke. His loud expulsions of breath the only noise. Slowly a new tension built in the room like a pressure cooker.

Pivoting my legs over the edge of the bed I let them dangle there with the sheets tossed aside, ready to drop and run to his side if needed, but still unsure of Cato's intentions. Suddenly he was moving forward with a steely determination in his dilated pupils—his eyes a blue velvet. My heartbeat fluttered and flapped like the startled wings of a bird taking flight. He was before me in seconds and his hands were pulling me up by the shoulder. He still towered some six inches over me.

Cato's fingers worked the nubs of my shoulders like pressure points that turned my bones to jelly. I could barely stand in his presence; I could barely remember to breathe. Especially when he crouched down to my level, his forehead coming to bear its weight against mine—our noses grazing, our eyelashes ghosting against the others', his breath the tickle of a feather. I could feel his need practically vibrating off him like he couldn't get close enough.

His lips parted and a single strangled word came out that I was unable to interpret. The smell of his breath intoxicated, washing over me like the misting of the sea.

The bird in my chest beat to escape, unable to stand another minute. My arms hung limply at my side. Everything about me was limp and pliant. He could mold me into any shape he wanted, I was clay in his hands, ready for my artist to make a work of art out of us.

Then I suddenly understood what his word was as I answered it with my own choked voice. He had asked _please_. He had begged _please_. He wanted my permission. He looked at me like I was his saving grace. It was vertigo inducing how quickly the tables changed between us.

"Yes," I said. My lips trembled with the admission. He could have everything he wanted and it terrified me as I realized I would always say yes.

Our lips crashed together and for the first time it felt real. My heart calmed and steadied like a man drugged. The connection between us finally sealed as we both acquiesced to the desire that had built in us over the years. What once was only the light of a small match, easily extinguished or ignored when swamped with dark of willful ignorance, had grown over the years to a blazing inferno incapable of being denied.

Pulling back from his lips I could see the blazing fire in his dark blue eyes and knew mine reflected the same. I shuffled back onto the bed and he followed, no longer were we the opposing ends of a magnet.

Then he was kissing me again. It was visceral. It was soft and gentle, like tender lover. It was _Cato._ His right hand grazed the length of my arm and sent sparks of electricity that left a trail of hair spiked from my body. I threw my arms up around his neck and granted entrance to his probing tongue. It took its time learning the contours of my mouth.

The slow and affectionate pacing of the kiss, the fact that we were both still clothed, and Cato's legs bracing him between my own were too much. I needed more. I tugged at his shirt until it was ripped free. It interrupted the kiss, but he quickly replanted his lips to the side of my neck. He pulled the collar of my shirt (technically his) down to expose my clavicle, which he dragged his lips across, not technically kissing until he halted like a stalled engine.

Unable to see but the top of his head I had no clue what caused the hold up. Then suddenly I felt his lips rest against the scar just below my right clavicle bone. It was a small and circular silvery patch of skin. I hiccupped in surprise.

Biting down on my lip I waffled. I didn't often address the subject behind that particular disfigurement, but since he had shared the secrets of his mother it was only fair. "My mother," I spoke, "she put her cigarette out on me once when I was eight. It was the only time she left a visible scar…"

"Mother's can be like a beautiful flower, distracting you from their toxicity well." Cato spoke with a damp breath against the scar before kissing it once more and then that was that. He let the collar of my shirt fall back in place. He looked up with a sultry grin that sent a shock straight to my groin—reinvigorating me—and said, "Raise your arms."

I obeyed, hastily throwing them above my head as he lifted the shirt free from my body. He nuzzled his nose into the crease of my armpits—sniffing, licking, biting—beginning to pull me further down the rabbit hole of desire again.

"Cato, _please_." It was my turn to beg as my hips rutted up towards his groin somewhat shamelessly.

At long last his hips came down to bear against mine. Our groins perfectly aligned. The friction was hot and the pressure tense, everything I needed. I could finally feel his length pressing against mine through our pajama bottoms and it instantly frosted my brain. I pulled my arms back down and Cato moved up to my neck, biting and marking, then to my ear where he licked and blew cool air causing my back to arch and his name to fly from my lips like it was the first word I had learned to say.

My hands scrambled down his muscled back like those of a rock climber until they reached their destination: the elastic band of his pants. The smooth and muscular globes of his taut ass were then exposed to my searching hands as I pushed the pants down, but the front stayed in place caught against the tenting of his dick. He used one hand to fix then brought it up to close against the side of my neck, stroking my pulse point.

Now that he was fully naked he pulled from me slightly and my eyes grazed down the length of his body. It was perfectly sculpted, the contours of his pectorals and abdomen like they'd been painted on in smooth lines that continually forced the eyes downward. He had a light dusting of blonde hair across his pecs that worked down the center of his abs to his darker colored pubes. But my eyes barely noticed this as they honed in on his rigid and weeping cock. It was thick and veined and perfectly proportionate to his body.

He had asked something and I flicked my eyes back up to his, they were darker than before, but still holding the match light of our desire.

"I'm sorry?"

He indicated with a dip of the head towards his hand resting at my waistline, "Your pants?"

I felt my pale cheeks blush red slightly embarrassed I had been so enraptured by his penis that I didn't hear him ask permission to shed my last article of clothing.

"You're asking if you can get me naked?" I grinned. It was his turn to color.

"I don't want to push—not ever with you."

My breath caught as he demurred. Then I answered for him as I kicked down the pajama pants he had let me borrow and I heard him gasp.

"You're absolutely beautiful," Cato husked as he hovered over the full length of my body. A hand brushed against my over sensitized cock then trailed up by torso. "You're everything I was too scared to dream of…"

His words alarmed me. I should have responded, said something of its equal, but I was overwhelmed by the feelings of it all. It had been so long… was I ready?

My hands slapped against the bed, curling in the sheets trying to restrain myself from bucking into Cato's mouth as he swallowed me. He gagged, overestimating how much he could take, but it was still glorious as I was enveloped in his wet heat. Enveloped in _Cato's_ mouth. If my brain were a computer it would have short-circuited by now.

I groaned incomprehensibly, my thighs rising up to cradle Cato's head. Cato learned the shape of my pulsating member. It was like he was memorizing its taste and scent, how much he could take, and the perfect pace and suction that curled my toes and warped my skin with goose pimples like a torch to parchment paper.

Lost in the heady humidity that had settled in the room like a greenhouse for sexual depravity I didn't even start when a finger breached my bottom. He took his time to carefully stretch and work my hole with my pre cum until I truly was pliant clay ready to be molded on a sculptor's spinning table. Cato pulled free from my cock with a pop and looked at me with a soft expression that said in the simplest way, 'may I?'

And how could I say no to that face? With the gorgeous cobalt eyes, the honey blonde hair swept messily across his forehead, his strong masculine jaw line, and sex flushed cheeks.

With the nod of my head in assent he slithered above me all firm shapes and supple skin, one hand guiding his cock, the other holding my left thigh spread out. He held contact with my eyes and my heat beat hammered against the constraining prison cell of my rib cage.

This was all new to me—this gentleness. For so long it had been a quick and passionless fuck. Sometimes the guy didn't even want to kiss. Other times I was just their sex toy to be used and abused and I relished in it. With Finnick there was intense sexual passion, but it was dirty and we were both using the other. But it wasn't like that with Cato, god no. He entered slow and delicate as if afraid I might break, a matter more fragile that glass. His lips touched feather light kisses upon mine. His stroke was all the oxygen I craved.

Settled to the base his arms moved to hold himself above me, sweat rolled from his neck down between his pectorals and then dropped against mine. But still he remained frozen and strained until I pushed against him, a signal it was okay to move again. Then he built a slow, sensual and consuming rhythm that worked us both to the edge in minutes.

He fit inside me with little pain and shocking ease. The pleasure washed over me in waves. Our sweaty bodies glided across each other in compliant thrusts. He had both arms pinning my thighs up as he works deep inside me. Our breathy moans and squeaking bed a symphony that guided our bodies towards the finish line. I began to shake, unsure if it was the approaching climax or something more. Cato was losing his control. His thrusts grew rougher, but packaged with a tenderness that left me grasping to understand its meaning.

Cato massaged against my prostate a final time. I cried out, he didn't even have to touch my cock. Hot liquid spilled forth between our bodies. My whole body contracted with an electric shock writhing in white-hot pleasure. Cato throbbed inside me.

"Peeta," He gasped my name like it was a curse and a blessing. His face knitted together in brushstrokes of wild abandon.

After withdrawing from me and planting a kiss against my cheek he rolled from on top of me. He used the towel he had discarded at the foot of the bed earlier in the evening to clean us. Then he scooped me in close, his nose nestling into the back of my head, his breath ghosting across my ear. No words were said and so the magic stayed for a little while longer—until sleep took me. She shouldn't have been there, but for some reason the memory of her had been floating around in the back of my mind that night. Love always brought me back to her. And so she returned to my thoughts in the void between waking and sleep.

"_Peeta, baby, Mommy needs more of her pills and her lighter." Her sickly sweet voice had echoed._

_Sometimes things changed and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. People aren't born good or bad. It's all shades of grey. Some may eventually tip more to the dark or light over the years, but nothings absolute. I witnessed the descent into darkness my mother took… _

_Some may say she had a heart of darkness. But I knew the truth. There had once been light in her, not always, but she had her good moments—ones of tender love and affection: afternoons where she'd take Ryen and I down to the park and push us on the swings, cold nights where she'd make hot cocoa and lie in bed with me reading _The Little Prince_. Then suddenly she was injured and there were pills and a way for her to drown her sorrows. Eventually a horrible hag replaced the mother I once knew and took out its pain on me. _

_However today I new nothing of the hag she would become. Today my mom needed her pills and her smokes and I wanted to help. I hesitantly grabbed from the table her prescription painkillers and the Zippo lighter she loved so much. It was a gift from Daddy to her when she got the job at the Country Club years ago, it had the image of a snowy black stallion on it, similar to her favorite horse at the stables. I fingered the cold metal and wondered how it created its small flame. It seemed like magic to me at the time._

"_Sometime today, _sweetheart_." Mommy snapped her fingers and jerked me into action. I brought the pill bottle and lighter to her side. She took them from my hand and replaced it with her rough one. _

"_That's my baby boy, Peet Peet," She cooed softly before popping two pills in her mouth and swallowing them dry. She held the menthol cig in her lips and lit the tip with her Zippo. The rancid smell of burnt tobacco and nicotine filled the room. _

"_Blech." I made a childishly distasteful face at the scent. I never liked when she smoked. It was gross. They taught us in science how bad it was for you. I remembered the picture of a tar filled lung and pictured the same inside her._

_Mommy cocked her head and took another deep puff of her cigarette before pocketing her lighter. She continued to hold my hand, but the grip grew tight. She leaned forward—the feral smile back on her lips. _

_My high-pitched scream pierced the silence like a hot needle through cool flesh. The pain was blistering and unbearably hot, eating its way through my skin._

"_M—om—my!" I bawled uncontrollably. She pressed the cigarette into my chest until it was crushed and bent. It burnt through my SpongeBob shirt and sizzled against my skin like hot grease until the burning red tip fizzled out, suffocated by my young flesh, forever altered._

"_Let that be a lesson to you! You do _not_ disturb mommy when she is resting and you never grab at her!" She snarled and then let go of my hand, flinging it from her like it was some disease-ridden vermin. I fell to the floor, unbalanced and sobbing. She closed her eyes and laid her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose and resting like nothing had occurred. _

_Love was never free. Love hurt. It started good, but it never lasted. That was the one truth above all others I had learned. Sometimes the ones you love the most lie the best. That night she apologized and let me have extra dessert and like a child I believed her apology. It was really my fault anyways. I deserved it after all…_

I shook in Cato's strong arms with tremors brought on by that particular memory of my mother. Cato held me closer to his body and I felt my chest constrict. It was like I couldn't breath. I didn't know what it all meant. So I wrapped my hand around Cato's wrist and hoped he could impart some of his strength on to me. Instead he just passed along merciful sleep.

* * *

Drifting back to awareness was like floating up from the depths of a dark lake. It took a few minutes for my mind and eyes to readjust to the light and the world of the living. My limbs felt numbed and heavy. Wiping the sleepers from my eyes I felt the unmistakable bulk of Cato's body still snug against my back. He had spent the full night with me. Our legs intertwined like lovers.

His breath was steady and undisturbed. I was the first to awaken and for the first time in the past week I felt truly rested. I slept through the whole night in a deep and peaceful slumber. It was quite disconcerting to think he had been the cause and that we were both still naked. This was _Cato_ after all. He was my ex-boyfriends best friend! What was I thinking? Where was this leading? To top it all off his mother was clinically insane and Cato might be too.

Okay, that might have been a harsh judgment on my part. But it wasn't quite the exaggeration it seemed. She had tried to drown me and the evidence was a mile high and growing each day for Cato's indictment. Was I really the best person to be judging? Maybe we could save each other, from our mothers, from ourselves.

The sun lit the room in a tinted crimson from the curtains. Unable to quite place its position in the sky I wondered the time. Was it really Sunday? Had a week gone by since I'd buried my mother? It felt more like a month. So much had happened in such a short span as a week that looking back at the beginning of it all felt like trying to remember back to a specific moment in time months ago. It had long since faded from view, the specifics of it hazy and undefined.

I should check on Clove and Glimmer, maybe we could all go to the police today and convince them there was a connection between the missing persons and Finnick's murder.

Trying to extricate myself from the wooden limbs of Cato caused him to grumble cutely in his sleep. A smile slipped across my face and it was bewildering how well it fit there.

My ankles cracked and I squinched as I crept to the dresser where I'd left my cell.

"Morning," Cato husked.

I turned with a coy smile on my face. I wasn't caught doing anything wrong, but I still felt insecure. He lay sprawled on the bed like a king on top of the world. His arms were propped behind his head, his groin proudly exposed and a playful smirk woven across his lips.

"Uh, hey, didn't mean to wake you." I apologized.

"You didn't. I've been awake for a while."

"Oh." That confused me. He had seemed to be sound asleep.

"I was just embracing the moment or—well—you, but maybe I should have woken you sooner cause this is a much better view." He leered.

Looking down I again realized I was naked and fuck I hated my pale skin for always ratting me out as I felt my cheeks flush a rosy pink.

"I could say the same," I motioned with a hand at him lounged out on the bed like a nude portrait.

Cato just grinned more fully. His cobalt eyes sparkled like sunlight reflecting off the open sea. His full eyebrows wiggled inappropriately. I turned from him towards my phone. He whistled.

"Like that view too."

"Oh my god, would you stop it," I swung around with my phone-clasped hand pressed against my hip exasperated. I was not used to this type of Cato. Should he be so confident in his sexuality? Shouldn't he be having some crisis? I'd never had a notion until this week that he could be gay or bi or even slightly flexible. It had always been a one-sided and deeply repressed fixation on my part.

"Why would I do that when I'm rewarded with such an adorable reaction, your like bashful the dwarf from Snow White, even in stature."

"Oh my _god_," I said again, "you did not just compare me to a dwarf! Are we twelve? You know the names of Snow White's seven dwarves?"

"It was my favorite movie as a kid," He said over his deep laugh. It shook his whole body and I had to avert my eyes before they drifted down his built chest and to his groin again. I went to swipe my phone open—

"It's okay," said Cato, "to look. We did make love last night."

I coughed, inhaling some of my own saliva down the wrong pipe.

"Uh…" I had no idea how to respond. This was all so unexpected. I never did morning after talk. And did he really just refer to it as 'making love'?

"Look, Peeta I know it seems—" He started to say, but he never got to finish. I might have caught a disappointed look flash across his face, but at the moment it didn't matter. I had thirteen missed calls, most from the girls, a few from Gale. My stomach dropped out from under me.

"Something's happened!"

I was beginning to feel shaky like I had too much caffeine. The crimson tint of the room felt like I was bathed in the light of blood. I quickly called Clove and she answered on the second ring. I barely heard a word she said. It was like a swarm of cicadas had descended in the room, their loud buzzing calls building into a crescendo that blotted out all other sounds. Only a few words got through to me, none really making any sense after I'd heard one name.

Cato was by my side in a flash, holding me as I leaned into him for support. I hung up and looked up to Cato. He was blurred—tears were welling in my eyes—but I forced them down and spoke.

"It's _Marvel._"


	11. Gathering The Storm

Gathering The Storm

It was all white walls and black and white checkered linoleum tiles. A barren landscape with appalling puce outfitted nurses fluttering about busily and shimmering plastic greenery placed indiscriminately along the corridor—one that I seemed to float down lifelessly. The fluorescent lights struck out at me harshening the colors before my eyes. The air smelled sterile and bleached, making my nose itch.

This couldn't be happening. Cato might have been beside me, his heavy-footed steps like the rhythmic striking of a bass as we marched to the end of the corridor, but I could not know. My bones ached, my muscles felt tight and cramped. I had the beginnings of a headache. I wondered if this is what it felt like to be shoved through a meat grinder. My body had been through so much in the past day, drugged, attacked and drowned, then fucked senseless. It was a wonder I could walk, but I had to, I had to do it for Marvel.

A hand brushed against mine and I stepped an inch to the left. I needed more space. The walls of the hallway were constricting. Cato might not understand, but it was my fault. I saw the murderer, his capabilities, and the truth behind Katniss and Estee's disappearances. I left my friends alone and vulnerable. I let my passions overtake me and ignored my phone all night. I had been foolishly holding on to my anger towards Marvel for a year now, letting it fester and decay like a stashed away corpse until its foulness tainted every interaction I had with him. And now, now…

"Peeta, Cato, in here."

It was Clove's voice that pulled me from the anguish of my own internal dialogue. She had popped her head out from one of the rooms we had just passed. She looked as drained as I did the day before: heavy bags under her eyes, a sweaty pallor to her skin only enhanced by the oil black color of her hair that ringed her face. She wore a borrowed pair of Glimmers pajamas that were too long for her.

Cato and I veered back towards the room. My breath caught as I came close to entering.

"Is he…?"

"He just woke up. They had him pretty heavily drugged all night, but… well I'll let him tell you." She stepped aside to let us enter the small patients room.

The local Panem County Hospital was the only hospital in the outlying area to have private rooms—due to a donation from a local benefactor a few years before. The room was small and crowded now with four visitors and all the beeping equipment, not to mention the bed that Marvel sat propped up on.

Tubes and wires were attached to Marvel monitoring heart rates and blood pressure and god knows what else. He had a gauze bandage around his head, a cast on his left wrist and multiple lacerations across his face. He looked like a hit-and-run victim. His usually bronze tanned skin peaked from blood loss. The worst was the awful gash down the length of his upper-right arm. It was now stitched closed and cleaned, but my mind could only image the amount of blood that it had spilled.

"Marvel, I—" I froze. Choking on my words like I'd swallowed too much hot soup. Burned, my tongue moved numbly in my mouth unable to form the coherent thoughts. Maybe it was time I let go of that anger towards him, his only sin ever being that he loved me too much.

"I'm okay. It's just a flesh wound," He tried to laugh it off in a false British cadence, but this wasn't a sketch comedy and I caught the way his chest hitched. There were probably more wounds underneath his hospital gown—also a distasteful Pepto-Bismol color.

Clove had moved to the empty seat now that Glimmer was up and hugging Cato in greeting. Her braided hair frayed and coming undone, a shocking sight on the usually immaculately put-together fashionista. She squeezed my shoulder and I croaked frog-like in response. I should go to Marvel's side, but I remained paralyzed by the scenarios that had played through my mind all morning on the ride in my Jeep to the hospital.

"Your arm," Glimmer fretted. She reached out to Cato's bandaged forearm.

"It's nothing." Cato hid his arm behind his back and dismissed her sympathy. "Dude, how did this happen?" Cato asked of Marvel.

The beep of the heart monitor was a steady track in the background of our gathering. Marvel's eyes—usually bright like polished silver, were a faded and uneven grey like corrugated steel bleached by the sun over many years—darted towards Cato and scanned him once over before looking back to me. He seemed suspicious of our arrival together.

"I was attacked. Somebody came at me, sliced my arm—" He paused when I gasped.

"It was the same killer, wasn't it?" I demanded. Glimmer quailed next to me and Cato put an arm around her. I shrugged off the pit that formed in my stomach. "With the porcelain mask."

Marvel licked his dry and cracked lips. I moved, drawn to his vulnerability, to the side of the hospital bed and cautiously placed a hand on his leg. Cato cleared his throat and Glimmer proffered her bottle of water.

"I never saw the persons face. He—"

"Or she!" Interjected Clove from her corner seat, "I'm just saying…" She shrugged defiantly at my silencing look.

"Okay, or _she_," Marvel drawled, "came at me from behind. I never got a good look at the person. Luckily I heard him approaching and dodged the knife, but it still caught me on my arm." He pointed with his head towards the stitched gash I noticed earlier. "I had to think quickly, try and fight the person with no weapon of my own or jump. So I jumped, figuring I could survive the fall more so than the blade. I blacked out when I hit the rocks and didn't wake up until here."

I groaned and gripped his leg tighter. "Marvel, this is all my fault—"

"Stop, of course it's not. I made the foolish decision to go for a jog alone even after you told me someone was killing people." He said, his eyes holding no room for debate. It made me feel marginally better to hear him assuage some of the guilt I carried. But it still felt like something heavy pressed in on my chest and I couldn't place what, until Cato moved into my eyesight on the opposing side of the bed.

"Man, I'm just glad you're okay." Cato said all bro like and I forced myself to restrain a theatrical eye-roll. Marvel ignored him outright.

"Well now we can go to the police!" I exclaimed in surprise at not having thought of it sooner. "They'll have to believe me now with the evidence of your attack."

Clove huffed in the background like I was bringing up a sore subject and maybe by the way Marvel's brow furrowed and Glimmer sighed with resignation I was.

"What did I say?" I asked.

"Go on, tell him Marvel." Clove's voice grated.

"I already spoke to the police and, uh, told them that due to the fog I didn't see the edge of the bluffs and slipped…" He trailed off when he caught sight of my face, which was doing a pretty great impersonation of a boiling pot, all the steam and emotion rising to the top and flushing my skin a searing red.

"Are you_ kidding_ me? Why on earth would you do that?" I shouted. "Now we have proof someone is attacking people and you tell the police you're just an epically uncoordinated _klutz_?" Now the headache was really coming on.

"Just listen to him, it's really smart actually." Glimmer stepped from under Cato's arm and around the bed to my side, pleading.

"Smart, yeah…" I sneered at her and held up a hand in warning. I didn't want her comfort.

"Peeta, c'mon," said Marvel, "you know as well as everyone we can't just go to the police about this. I never saw the guy full on, so I can't corroborate your claims of a masked killer and what about the post cards? How do we explain that to the police with out incriminating ourselves?"

"We could just—" I paused, grasping at straws. "I don't know, but it's the right thing to do, which we haven't done in a long time and it's about time we started!"

Clove placed her hand on my shoulder, "I agree with Peeta, if we keep piling on the lies about what happened with Thresh they're going to kill us. Somebody's already trying."

Glimmer hissed violently, "Would you _shut up_?" as Marvel warned, "This is _not_ the place."

Marvel then heaved a sigh as he pushed himself up further on the bed. He had fallen into a slouch during the heated discussion. The pain that flashed across his face shot me with a pang of guilt and pity, but my anger still flared white-hot and incinerated those feelings like dry tinder. I looked to Cato who stood stoic near the door, watching our debate play out with a passive stare.

"Are you going to add anything Cato?" I asked, trying to keep the hope from playing out across my face.

Marvel interrupted him before he could speak, "I think out of all of us, Cato has the most to gain from keeping us silent."

I whirled back to face Marvel in the bed, "What does that mean?"

He jutted his chin towards Cato. His jaw was set firmly like he was staving off an acrid taste in his mouth. "I think you all know what I mean. We know what he's capable of, who's to say he isn't the killer?"

I gaped slack-jawed from Marvel to Cato. Clove muttered something to herself beside me and Glimmer nodded her head in agreement, turning to Cato expectantly. I couldn't believe he was accusing his best friend of being a murderer.

"You're not serious?" Cato asked, but the steely determination of Marvel's glare left little room for mistake. "I am n-not a killer!" Everyone cringed at his stutter.

"I say different." Marvel challenged. His pale skin regained some of its color from the heat of his conviction. "It would make a lot of sense. Tying up all your loose ends, making sure none of us has the opportunity to grow a conscience and talk."

"But what about the post cards, they said we would pay, 'wrongs will be righted.'" Clove interjected fiercely and I was slapped with another shock of guilt. She was defending Cato. She might still care for him yet. "If anyone was going around righting wrongs, Cato might as well have a huge bull's-eye hanging from his back."

"He never got one though!" Glimmer exclaimed.

"Precisely, isn't that a little convenient?" Marvel posed. It was a rhetorical question, but I disputed it, "I didn't get one either, are you going to accuse me too?"

"Besides I was staying at his place last night, I would know if he left to go attack you!" I challenged further.

Cato shook his head imperceptibly, but my eyes were locked in battle with Marvel. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew where this was building, like the inevitability of the sun rising in the east I couldn't stop it. Maybe I didn't want to.

"How would you know, Peeta? You weren't with him all night." Marvel said and his voice rose at the last part, more like a plea than a statement.

"Because I was _with_ him all night! Okay?" I shouted with destructive force hoping to find some satisfaction in the way the words lashed at Marvel like the crack of a whip. His eye's honed in on my neck and I remembered the marks Cato left there. Marvel's eyes widened and he knew what I said was true.

Glimmer squeaked in shock and clasped a hand over her mouth. Clove faded back from my side with out a sound, like a shadow receded with the push of the sun. The heart monitor steadily beeped in the background, unfaltering.

Guilt and shame mingled in a volatile chemical cocktail in the pit of my stomach, burning through everything like acid. What had I just done? My eyes flew to Cato's by the door hoping to explain, hoping he'd see the remorse and I'd find acceptance or support in his eyes. Instead I was met with the turn of his back as he left. Even more surprising was the person that stepped forward to take his place in the doorway. I had the distinct sensation of falling.

Johanna stood in the doorway akimbo with the fierce look on her face that was stereotypically hers: harsh angular cheekbones, pursed lips, one quirked eyebrow, and dark eyes like daggers. How much had she heard?

Glimmer choked out, "J-oney."

"Yeah, its your friend Joney," She commented snidely. "Or did everyone forget? It seems like you forget about me a lot anymore. Must be pretty inconvenient when I keep showing up and reminding you of my existence like a shit you can't pinch off."

"Gross." Glimmer grimaced.

"Classy," muttered Clove from behind.

"Th-that's not true!" I exclaimed.

"Isn't it? I'd say it looks to me like my arrival is pretty fucking inconvenient, what with all the secrets we're sharing today." She sneered and I couldn't help but flinch.

"What did you hear, Johanna?" Clove finally stepped forward.

"What did I hear?" scoffed Johanna, "I'm not sure what I _heard_, but I know when I'm being fucking lied to. I know that what happened back on graduation night was a big fucking lie and something more is going on. I know you think there's a killer on the loose, it might be one of you, and that apparently Cato's developed a craving for cock, specifically Peeta Bread's." Johanna ranted and it was all too true and it was all too painful to hear.

Silence reigned in the aftermath of her words except for the steady beeping—it never changed pace. The silence was the type that only ever could be brought by the cold truth. It tore threw the room like a speedboat, slicing through the murky water of our lies and leaving us reeling in its freezing wake. Clove was right, the lies were piling too high and we were beginning to buckle under the pressure. Soon we'd be crushed and buried underneath it all.

"So you have one last chance, tell me the truth or I leave and what happens after I'm not responsible for." Johanna stated firmly, taking the time to look each one of us in the eyes.

Marvel was the first to speak.

"What are you threatening?"

Johanna shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing. I'm just stating the fact that after this I'm done, it's the truth or it's over, there truly is no chance of redemption for us."

Suddenly the moment was upon us. It's our chance to unload a portion of the burden. A chance to share with our friend the truth she fully deserved, why her group of best friends seemed to implode over night like the demolition of an old building. She felt the aftermath of its implosion, but never saw what lit the fuse. I'd come close only a few days before in Cato's house to telling her, but now my tongue felt like a big wad of dry and suffocating cotton. I looked downcast at my feet in utter shame. By the telltale silence of the room I knew no one else was going to come forward.

"Fine," Johanna said and the word sound mangled and foreign to my ears. I looked up to catch the flash of emotion across her face that had choked her word; crushing disappointment, the type only loved ones could bring. It was only there for a moment before the slate was wiped clean. In its place she planted her patented Johanna sneer and said, "Then I guess there's nothing left to say except you can suck my dick."

Johanna spun on her heel and strode from the room. It took a few moments after she left before anyone said anything. The beep of Marvel's heart monitor was joined by the stifled weep of Glimmer.

"I _hate_ this. I hate it all!" Then she too fled from the room.

"Shit, she's my ride," Clove said.

I turned to face her finally and saw where she had retreated to earlier, the windowsill. I opened my mouth to speak, to say anything, but I couldn't find the words. She did not want to hear them anyways.

"Don't," She held up a hand and shook her head. Her raven hair swung out from behind her ears and draped across her face like a curtain separating us.

Then she was gone and it was just Marvel and I.

* * *

People always told Johanna she had a lead foot, but she always stubbornly disagreed. To her they were just being bitches or backseat drivers. It was her car she would drive how she damn well pleased and if they didn't like it then they should have offered to drive. But today she might have been inclined to agree as she found the pedal bottom out and her 1997 Volkswagen station wagon's engine whining in protest.

"C'mon Priscilla!" Johanna spoke to her car and rubbed the faded rubber of the dashboard.

She was tearing down the old county back road from the hospital in an emotional fit. The sky was dark and overcast, having rolled in with the fog from last night. The speedometer quit working when she reached over fifty miles per hour, but if she had to guess she'd say she was pushing Priscilla near seventy. If only her father knew she was going thirty over the speed limit. He might have been a drunken bastard, but he was a stickler for safe driving. It's how he never got caught for being a drunk, he never drove his deputies did. She scoffed at the thought of him trying to scold her for speeding.

Priscilla jerked and began to slow. A loud crack emitted from the engine followed by a long drawn out howling sound. Johanna smelled smoke.

"No, no, don't do this to me Priscilla!" She cried out and slapped a hand against the pink fur covered steering wheel. "Look, here I'll slow down. There, happy? Foot's off the gas!"

But it was piteously too late. The old girl's engine coughed and sputtered and then finally petered out on her. She had just enough momentum left to pull it to the side of the road.

For a minute she remained frozen, both hands clasped at ten and two on the steering wheel, before she shook it violently. A scream ripped through clenched teeth.

This was all their fucking fault, Johanna thought spitefully. Everything had been good. Everything had been great in fact. She'd graduated high school, which was more than she thought she was going to achieve. She'd been accepted to Panem Community College and was finally dating Gloss. Then suddenly Thresh was dead and Clove a victim of sexual assault. None of her friends were talking to each other. Gloss was devastated at the loss of his best friend and went to his dad's place in Virginia for the rest of the summer before going to College and forgetting all about her. And there she was just forgotten about and tossed aside like day old newspaper. All her friends gone, her boyfriend gone, the life that she knew over.

Johanna flung her car door open and climbed out to inspect the engine. She jumped back when smoke bloomed from under the hood of the engine and swiped back and forth with her hands to clear it. Once safe she leaned in to see if she could spot what was wrong, but she knew as much about cars as she did expressing her emotions in a healthy manner and that was diddly-fucking-squat.

"Fuck!" She shouted and sucked on her thumb, which she burnt when it brushed the scalding engine.

"Sweet Jesus Christ on buttered toast! Piece of limp dick shit!" Johanna raged lividly while kicking the front bumper of her car, which proceeded to wrench free and fall on to her foot. "This HAS to be a joke? I've done nothing but love you and shower you in affection Priscilla and _this_ is how you repay me?"

Johanna hopped backwards on her one good foot before dropping down on her ass and resigning herself to the fact that she was going to cry. She hated crying. She wasn't a girl who cried. She made grown ass men cry. She was strong and independent and a proud anti-Madonna.

It was them—the people she called friends. They always inevitably brought her to this. She knew it was a mistake to let them get so close to her heart over the years. They were just like her dad; they all abandoned her in the end. But no they weren't going to get away with making her feel like this. Not today, not anymore. She couldn't believe what she was thinking, but it was the only course of action. They were lying to her about everything and she couldn't let it stand. Something had to be done.

Wiping the tears from her eyes she stood up shimmying. It was the only way to dig her hand into her tight pocket and retrieve her cell phone. Then she got back in her car, shut the door and dialed.

* * *

"Look I shouldn't have—"

"No," Marvel interrupted, "don't apologize because you feel you have to or you don't know what else to say."

It was like he had doused me in ice water. Everything felt tight and constricted on my body. I blinked rapidly. Somehow in the span of minutes the détente that had seemed to sprout between all my group of friends crashed and burned like Oceanic Flight 815. I was not even sure what all the damage was. The wreckage was still settling. I just knew I couldn't leave on bad terms with Marvel, not while he was in the hospital, life possibly still in danger.

"I am sorry if I hurt you. This wasn't the place to say anything…" I rolled my shoulders as I motioned around the room and then let them flop to my sides. We were in a hospital because Marvel had been fucking _attacked_ and I was busy making everything about myself.

"No, it wasn't, but then I shouldn't have said what I did after I picked you up at the club so I guess we're even." Marvel's eyes were the color of smoky black storm clouds. I could almost feel the static electricity in them, but was unable to decipher what it all meant. He seemed so far from the man I once knew and yet exactly the same.

"Maybe, there are just a lot of complicated emotions that come up when it comes to you and I and I'm having trouble sorting through it all and letting some of it go."

His nostrils flared at my words. Then his eyes narrowed to slits. "Is this still about that night?" He asked accusatorially.

"Of course it is! Everything that has happened since has been about that night, Marvel. You forced a decision upon me in the heat of a terrible moment that I will regret for the rest of my life, so forgive me if I have a little trouble letting it go."

Marvel's heart monitor started to beep at a faster pace and I stared at him in amazement. Was I the only one capable of riling him up like this?

"Let's not do this now. The doctors are going to hold me twenty-four hours for observation—something about a possible concussion—so I want to make sure you're going to be safe." He said through gritted teeth.

"You've been attacked! What if the killer comes back to finish the job?" I rubbed my temples. I really needed some aspirin, the headache having grown into a full-blown migraine.

"I'm not the one I'm worried about." He stated. His heartbeat was beginning to slow again as he regained control of his temper as he turned his focus instead to my safety. Which inevitably made me feel like an even bigger ass.

"Me?"

"Yes, you obviously think you can trust Cato, but just because you—" Marvel halted what he was going to say, looking on the verge of suffocating. Then he continued as if nothing happened. "—_slept_ with him doesn't mean you were with him all night. It's a safe bet to say you fell asleep at some point, right?"

"Yes," I grumbled.

"Well then who is to say he didn't slip from your side while you were asleep. I didn't go for my run until after midnight. What time did you two…?" He tapered off with a repugnant face and a roll of his healthy wrist. I huffed quietly to myself. I deserved it, but I didn't have to like it

"Maybe around 10. I'm not sure, I wasn't really paying attention to the time, some other things just so happened to be going on that day, Marvel."

That may have been the understatement of the century. And fine, so he may have had a point and maybe I did just learn Cato had some serious mental issues that might give more credence to this theory of Marvel's, but I sure was not going to tell him that. He didn't need any more ammunition in his crusade against Cato.

Marvel looked overconfident as he replied, "So there is a distinct possibility that after you fell asleep he could have snuck off and—"

"Stop, just stop it okay? I don't want to hear any more. "When did you suddenly turn on your best friend?" I demanded exasperated and very much over his little vendetta against Cato.

"The moment he shit on our friendship and fucked my boyfriend." Marvel snarled.

I retreated from the bed a couple of paces. He was absolutely lived, his face contorted in rage like some psychotic gorilla. He swiped a hand over his face and gathered himself, readjusting the bandage on his head.

"Marvel I'm not your boyfriend anymore." I said with conviction, because he needed to get that. He just looked away from me towards the window. "Can you tell me what you were even doing out for a run so late after I told you about Finnick?"

He at least had some decency to look somewhat penitent.

"Glim and Clove couldn't sleep and they were keeping me up and driving me crazy, I needed to clear my head a little because you're not the only one with troubles and things that need sorting through," He answered.

I crossed my arms to protect my delicate heart. "Shit, I'm sorry, okay? I know I'm a royal fuck up and just—I wish I could stop myself sometimes, from doing the things I know will hurt people. I don't want you hurt." I swallowed down the lump that developed in my throat. "So you should get someone to watch over you here, you're parents maybe, because I couldn't bear it if the bastard got the chance to finish what he started."

"They don't even know I'm here. They're in Santa Barbara for some movie festival, you know where I rank on their priorities." He sighed.

I gave him a charitable smile then turned to leave. At the door I stopped and looked back at him. He was staring at the cast on his wrist like it had personally offended him. His fingers moved dexterously inside the confines of the plaster. He was silent, processing and so I left him.

* * *

Cato's brooding frame was lurking in the shadows of my front porch upon my return home. I was a little surprised, to say the least, by his appearance since I drove us in a frenzied panic to the hospital after calling Clove, which left me a little confused about how he got here. But somehow he must have gotten a ride back to his place because there was his Aston Martin, engine still ticking from use.

"I sure wasn't expecting to see you so soon," I said with my hands in my pockets stiffly.

A stiff wind was building up over the Pacific and whipping up in sputtering gusts from the beach. The overcast sky built a static current that made my hair stand on end.

Cato walked forward to meet me halfway to the door. His shoulders were slouched and his gaze avoidant.

"Is Marvel going to be okay?"

The implication was clear. Was Marvel going to be okay after learning about us—what we did?

"The doctors are holding him for twenty-four hours. Then he's free to go." I replied evasively.

Cato's eyes skimmed the surface of my face. I should not have felt so distant from him after last night, but a force surged up in my chest like a shield over my heart, severing the tie between us.

"About last night—"

"Why did you leave me there?" I blurted out over top of Cato. He frowned at my interruption.

"Because… because you know why." He finally held my stare. A crack formed in the armor around my heart and I recoiled. I didn't want to know why; I didn't want to know about his mother and the illness he struggled against or that he thought we made love. I didn't want to know we broke Johanna. I didn't want to know that someone was killing people. I didn't want to fucking know anything.

"Actually I don't. I don't know why you did any of it to be truthful, Cato." I stepped around him and headed towards the door, keys jingling in my hand.

Cato reached out and held my arm. I wormed from his grip slapping my fingers to the place where his hand brushed my skin. The keys in my hand were sharply cold against the skin—the area overheated, the nerves raw.

"Don't pretend like you don't know what last night was." He stated firmly. His eyes implored me to be reasonable. They didn't blink.

"I know what it was for me, but for you, Cato, I don't know." I shook my head and backed towards the door. "You're straight. You always have been. I'm gay and proud and not keeping secrets for anyone and I'm sure as hell not some toy for straight guys to experiment with."

Cato winced. A blast of wind flopped his hair about his forehead. He looked more like a child than I had ever seen, vulnerable. His hands faltered before him before he withdrew them and the emotions I once could so easily read on his face were sheathed. He was blank and hard as stone. He gave a curt nod and left.

Inside the confines of my bedroom I collapsed against my bed. It had been a couple of nights since I used it and it felt odd to be back on it. On the windowsill next to my bed sat the baggie of weed Marvel gave me for the hangover, rolling papers and a bag of barbecue-flavored chips. I deftly rolled a joint while munching on the chips. I was lighting up in minutes.

The smoke exhaled from my lungs in a contented sigh. Relief flooded me; it seeped deep in my pores and reached the tips of my toes. I just wanted to forget it all so I smoked deep hits until my lungs burned.

Rolling onto my back with the burning joint held up in one hand I pulled out my phone and finally listened to Gale's message. The urgency in his tone was distinct, but I found myself apathetic. The men in my life had depleted me, there was no energy left to get riled up. Lethargy reached deep in my bones soaking through to the marrow. My very core was overwhelmed and drained.

I dialed Gale's number summarily, but couldn't stop the droop of my eyelids. It rang and rang with out answer before cutting off. A glance at the screen of my cell read _disconnected_. Somewhere in my brain a feeling registered at the sight of those words, but everything was scattered as an impressive yawn escaped from my throat. I dashed out the joint on the windowsill and curled in against a pillow. A voice said not to sleep, but I was listless and quickly pulled from consciousness in my dependable bed.

* * *

I was back in my dorm at ASU. Textbooks and loose-leaf paper were strewn across the bed and desk on my side. I had the distinct feeling that I was forgetting something. It gnawed at my stomach in an unsettling fashion. Looking around the room for clues I discovered Gales side was empty. No desk, no bed, no wardrobe, just settling dust.

"Gale?" I called out. A weightless sensation hit my stomach like a plane dropping during turbulence. "GALE!"

Flinging the door open I ran into the hallway. It was desolate. Shadows hung thick in the corners like dirty cobwebs. The hall seemed to stretch on interminably, but echoing from it the depths at one end was the sound of Gale's laugh. It was boisterous and carefree.

Longing lashed at me like a knife.

No it was a knife. It tore a gash across my bicep spilling hot crimson down the lengthy of my arm. I fell back against the wall in shock. The porcelain-masked man had found me. I ducked as he slashed at me with the serrated knife and tore off down the hall towards the sound of Gale's voice.

It was no longer a laugh, but cries for help. There was no end in sight to the hallway.

"PEETA!"

Another voice shouted my name. This one came from the other end of the hall. I froze on the spot and looked back. The killer was gone. I could not see who was at the other end of the hall, but his voice had been crystal clear. It was Cato.

"Please…" Both men begged of me. I was stuck. It felt like I was being torn in half. It was agonizing and slow. A step in either direction did nothing to loosen the shredding grip on my body.

Then the killer was back with a jab of the knife. I turned to the nearest door on my right bursting through just as the knife-wielding maniac thrust his blade for my heart.

_Schlick._

I spilled out to a grassy knoll. Turning back I expected the killer to be towering over me, but there was no one. The nearest light was a gas lantern maybe fifty feet in the distance. It flooded the landscape before me with flickering light.

_Schlick. Schlick._

The sound of a spade sinking into the moist earth hit my ears over and over. I trudged up the hill towards the light and discovered I was in a graveyard at twilight. Thunder rumbled menacingly in the roiling clouds. The opposing side of the hill exposed a man digging a grave. There were five freshly dug graves in a neat row to his left. Four of them were empty. The fifth was already filled in with solid black dirt.

_Schlick._

A terrible scream echoed across the lawn.

The marker at the head of the filled grave read the name Marvel Cassel. A sharp sensation of loss and terror trickled down my spine.

_Schlick. Schlick._

The screaming grew louder. The thunder shook the earth. The digging continued. The sounds mingled and built-in a painful cacophony. Each unfilled grave read the name of one of my friends: Glimmer Demaio, Cato Ryves, Clove Bovet, even Johanna Mason. The man digging the last grave stopped. He'd reached six feet below. The shovel was tossed from the pit and then he pulled himself out. His face was shielded from view as he bent over the head of the grave working on something. Then he stood back and my heart dropped into my stomach.

The last grave marker placed it was decorated with bloody fingerprints and read Peeta Mellark. The man digging the graves lifted his head and stared me down. The front of his shirt stained with blood. It rand down his arms and dripped off the tips of his fingers like droplets of rainwater. His eyes filled with hate and pain. It was Thresh.

Thunder exploded like a detonated bomb and the screaming finally ended.

* * *

With a harsh thud and a clap of thunder I woke tangled in my sweaty sheets against the floor. Freeing a hand I lifted it to rest against my throat. It was sore and brought me to the realization I had been the one screaming.

I found my phone up on the bed and quickly dialed Gale's number again, this time with urgency rapidly unspooling in my abdomen.

"C'mon Gale, I need you." I whispered to the room.

The storm gathering over the ocean worked menacingly close to the coastline with black clouds and cracks of lightning.

Instead of ringing the phone went straight to an automated voice.

"The number you are trying to reach has been disconnect. Please try again."

**Reviews are such lovely treats and as incentive here is a teaser about the next chapter! Peeta makes the decision to finally reveal the truth, a character we haven't seen in a while reappears, and doll face begins his 'reaping'._  
_**


	12. House of Horrors Part 1

**Happy 2013 to everyone!**

**I should warn you there is a scene of self-harm here in the chapter. I don't know much about triggers, but I thought I'd mention it incase anyone is sensitive to those things along with all the other warnings this story entails. **

House of Horrors Part 1

Motionless, Cato stood at the counter with a rigor to his body that resembled a stone carving. The only visible movement the twitch of an eyelash and the beat of a pulse point on his neck. A mediocre frozen dinner tray sat on the counter leaking melted ice shards in a puddle. The water followed the groves between the tiles in a bid for freedom. He held an average sized kitchen knife in one hand. The plastic film over the dinner pierced and curled back at the puncture site.

A crack of lightning fractured across the dark sky like fissures in the lines of reality, illuminating the dimly lit kitchen like the flare of a live wire. Cato's face was detached, blank like an erased white board, just the hint of the remnants of emotion hidden beneath. His cobalt eyes were dark and static. His nostrils flared and his lip twitched as he muttered something under a hushed breath, barely discernable to the human ear.

"An experiment…they don't know… everyone's a killer." His voice rose higher on the last word. "They all know. They all did—but maybe… not like me." He trailed off and cocked his head like a puzzled dog. _I am __**wrong**_. The thought bounced around his mind, reflected back at him, never-ending like two mirrors pointed at each other, reflecting images into oblivion.

None of them knew what it was to fight his mind every day. To struggle to comprehend what was real and what was made up. Some days were harder than the others, making him question whether he was even sick or just fucked up. To fight for a normal life that felt almost with in his grasp, but just a hairsbreadth too far for him to latch his fingers around. Sometimes he got close enough to touch it, feel the warmth and comfort of it in his hands, like with Peeta that very morning, only to have it slip away like grabbing hold of a fish in water. It was infuriatingly unattainable.

The disease was a slow acting poison working its way through his body. It started in the mind, tainting his thoughts and reactions. It spread slowly; worming its way through his mind and eventually, soon, it would reach the rest of his body. Then it would be too much and the poison would be integrated too deeply. Then it was all over, he would be his mother.

Suddenly Cato's hand flashed across his left arm, slashing, and scarlet blood sprayed the counter in dark flecks like the spatter of paint flicked from the tip of a brush. His face remained a grim mask of unflinching indifference. His eyes followed the trail of blood as it flowed from the gash torn into the soft flesh of his forearm. The knife in his right hand glinted with the flash of a bolt of lightening. Rain pelted at the windows and the sky was dark and dreary, even though the sun would not set for another hour.

"I don't feel it!" Cato shouted at no one in particular.

Then he sat the blade against his skin again, a little higher up from the first cut. His flesh indented with the pressure cast upon it by the kitchen knife. With a graceful flick of the wrist he cut. Hot, crimson blood spilled forth and ran down to intermingle with the earlier trails of blood on his arm.

His vision was swimming. His head felt lightheaded.

"No, not again…" Cato groaned, leaning into the counter. He reflexively gripped the knife tighter, the taut skin of his knuckles turning white with pressure.

"Mister Ryves?"

Cato's body snapped back to its rigid posture at the thickly accented voice.

"I'm done for the evening. Your Mother was out of her restraints again, but it's good now. But, there's a weird smell in—sir! Are you okay?" Octavia asked startled. Her eyes quickly surveyed the scene with a nurse's clinical eye, assessing the damage: the knife, the cuts up his arm, his sweaty pallor.

Cato turned to look at her with a contorted scowl. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything she let out a startled gasp as the knife twitched in his hand and his memory lapsed.

* * *

"The number you are trying to reach has been disconnect. Please try again."

"Fuck!" I shouted and flopped back on my bed, arm resting over my head.

What did it all mean? Nothing was making sense at the moment and the encroaching storm was not helping calm my nerves. If Gale's phone was really disconnected I had no way of getting hold of him. I didn't know his parent's number or any of his friends back in LA. So he was lost to me as my voice of reason, as my rock.

"Well Peeta, you're just going to have to do this yourself," I muttered. "And better yet, now you're talking to yourself. Just add that to the file."

Rising up into a sitting position I turned towards the window. The dark clouds were spitting a fine misting of rain, only the prelude to a harsher downpour soon to come. It felt symbolic in a greater sense to life at the moment. But what was everything building to? When would the storm break?

And worst of all I was a complete idiot for falling asleep while some psycho ran about in a doll mask slaughtering my friends. Doll Face. The moniker popped into my head and great now I was wasting time naming serial killers like a trashy tabloid.

While changing into a pair of fresh jeans and t-shirt, rejoicing in the fact that I was finally back in my clothing, I thought on what Gale would do. He always pushed me to confront things. He always held me accountable even when I came back to the room wasted and high and looking for a fight, for someone, something else to blame for my problems. He refused to let me sulk, wallow in self-pity…

It hit me like a punch to the gut. I doubled over, hands on my knees, with the force of the realization. I needed to stop fighting the truth. It was burying us all. The graves in my dream were dug by Thresh, what more apt symbol than that did I need to be beat over the head with? This pity party had to come to an end. No one else could do it for me. I was fucking up my life and blaming everyone but me. Granted things may have spiraled beyond my control in the beginning, but I was letting things define me, control me—I was punishing myself and it needed to stop.

Standing and looking in the full-length mirror behind my door I resolved to move forward, consequences be damned. It was time to do the right thing. It was time to give the truth its chance in the sun and maybe then everyone could find peace.

I scrolled through my contacts until I came to her name. Then I pressed the call button.

* * *

The storm struck sudden and fierce, driving off all evening shoppers and lazy Sunday day tourists. The boardwalk always closed early on Sundays, but today seemed to go quiet earlier than usual due to the storm. Capitol Park on the pier shut down hours ago due to the storm and cleared out. With that shut down the restaurants soon followed. Johanna hadn't seen anyone about on the boardwalk for the past hour now.

Thankfully for Johanna Sundays meant she only had to work a short four-hour shift before closing up. Old Lady Sae had just left and assigned Johanna to take inventory before she was free. With the day she had Johanna really was in no mood to hang around at work taking stock of the entire shitty inventory, but she wanted to keep her job and the measly paycheck so she went to it, although if she handled the inventory a little harsher than was called for well then she really couldn't be to blame for that. Besides, Cato bailed on work leaving Johanna to do everything herself, so she was more than a little frustrated, but she couldn't say she wasn't glad she didn't have to deal with him on top of everything.

The automated lights finally flickered on along the boardwalk, even though it had gone dark earlier from the dark storm clouds. They cast long shadows across the boardwalk and wavered with the gusts of wind whipping up off the turbulent ocean.

Inside the Hob wasn't much brighter. The dim lights strung up across the ceiling lit the store in a muted yellow. Johanna, humming a tone-deaf tune, worked up and down the aisles with her clipboard and pen. Her front pocket vibrated and her face flashed with annoyance at the caller-ID.

"What do you want?" She asked derisively, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could continue working. She had to make the bus in the next fifteen or she'd have to wait another forty-five minutes and that was _not_ an option.

There was silence on the other end for a moment and Johanna briefly wondered if she hadn't been butt-dialed before she heard a sigh.

"_Well?_" She pressed.

"Sorry, Johanna. It's just, I'm sorry for earlier today." Peeta finally answered.

"Yeah, so am I, but I thought I made it pretty clear I was over the lot of you." A tiny beep sounded in her ear, registering it as the sound of a dying battery. Just one more thing to add to a shit day, no distractions for the twenty-minute bus ride home.

"I know, I know. And you should be. But if you will just hear me out I promise I'll leave you alone if that's what you want. I just want you to know I think you deserve the truth."

Johanna worked down another aisle with a crinkled frown. Was Peeta apologizing? A brief pang of guilt constricted her chest for what she had done, but faded just as quickly, a flash in the pan. Damn right she deserved the truth and since they weren't giving it to her she went to the only person she could, the only one who had thought something was off and might be able to do something about it.

Johanna settled for an exasperated, "Okay…"

"Can I come to you? I should say this—I need to say this in person. To explain." He sounded ragged, like it really was tearing him apart from the inside.

Johanna chewed the tip of the pen before remembering it was Old Lady Sae's and spitting it out. She rubbed the back of her hand against her tongue multiple times before responding.

"Well my car did break down so I do need a ride. You can pick me up at work, I'm almost done here."

"Okay, great. Great! I'll be there soon."

The line went dead and Johanna was left wondering what had brought on such a sudden change of heart. She didn't want to feel it, she'd been fucked over so many times, but hope nonetheless began to creep back into her heart.

BANG! Johanna jumped and dropped her clipboard. Something had crashed. Johanna couldn't tell what, but it sounded like it came from in the back, the stockroom. She shook off the fright the crash had caused and headed to investigate. Her charger was in the back room. She could hook it up and maybe get a little juice to last her the awkward ride home with Peeta.

"Mrs. Sae, did you come back for something?" Johanna called out walking into the back area. A fresh damp scent hit her nostrils.

It was dark. No lights were on in the stockroom. She could hear the sound of rain hitting the asphalt clearly as if she stood outside. A splinter of lightning lightened the room like the flash of a strobe light. The back door was revealed in a flicker of white light. It was left ajar.

* * *

Feet hammered down the stairs, the sound echoing through the empty house. It was unnerving to realize how alone and isolated I was in the house. I hastily dressed in my tan raincoat from the front closet and I stuffed my phone back in my pocket. A sense of calm had settled over me like the settling of dust and was spreading through my limbs in comforting warmth. Talking to Johanna, just knowing that the burden would be lifted however slightly by confessing the truth to her made everything seem more bearable.

I wrenched the door open with determination. Then recoiled in fright.

"Fucking hell!" I clutched at my heart, "You scared the shit out of me!"

The young girl at the door jumped back, startled as well. Her knuckle was raised ready to knock. After a double take I realized exactly who was standing before me. Her smooth coffee brown skin, signature braided pigtails and large childlike eyes were unmistakable.

"Rue?" I asked in disbelief. "What are you—"

"Ruth if you don't mind." She stood firm and spoke with a hint of aggression behind her southern drawl. It threw me off balance.

"Sorry, I just didn't expect to see you, _here_ of all places." My voice rose to be heard.

The splatter of the rain grew louder as the storm intensified. Soon we would have to shout to hear one another. I checked over her shoulder and saw a beat up and rusted looking red Chevy truck parked in the driveway. It had to have been her mothers. What could have brought her all the way from the seam? I was about to ask when—

"Care to tell me what the heck is going on?" She demanded hands firmly placed on either hip. Her cleavage pressed out with the posture and again made me nauseous over the forced transition she had gone through, innocence definitely lost.

"I don't understand."

She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and thrust it in my face. It took a few seconds before my eyes uncrossed at the proximity of the card. Then my veins ran cold with ice and I sucked in a breath, holding it without realizing.

"First ya'll show up at my home, apologizing for shit not even your fault, digging up things best left forgotten, pickin' at old wounds and now this. What _are_ you playing at?" Ruth's body may have still betrayed in certain aspects her youth, but her attitude was all grown up and had little tolerance for games.

Trembling fingers took the all too familiar postcard from her hand and inspected it closer. It was the same card I had seen multiple times over, the one of the field of crops. But this one contained a slightly different message, still scribbled in a dark red substance._ Penance will be paid for your loss. Wrongs will be righted._

I locked eyes with Rue and bit my lip before making the decision.

"Come with me. I'm going to see a friend. You should hear what I have to tell her, you deserve it more than anyone."

"Hear what? Why ya'll being so damn cryptic?" She huffed and stomped her foot.

"I promise I'll explain everything that I know to you, but not here." I looked at her imploringly, hoping she would let her guard down for a moment and understand.

She gave a curt nod. I ran out to my jeep, Ruth close on my heels. The rain came in slants from the gusts of wind and sprayed my face. Once in the jeep I felt the vibration of my phone and fumbled to retrieve it from my pocket. My pulse jumped at the mere thought of it possibly being Gale. Various scenarios, each worse than the previous, floated through my mind as explanation for the voicemail he left and subsequent disconnected phone, but I refused to indulge them for sanity's sake.

Unfortunately it wasn't Gale calling.

"Clove?" I answered and cringed at the forced enthusiasm I put into. I was definitely over-compensating.

"I was thinking we should probably talk." She launched right into it and that was Clove, never one to waist time on pleasantries when she had a purpose. "I'm not going to jump to conclusions or do any of that miscommunication bull-shit. That way we save both of us the pain and embarrassment, so we'll just be clear and honest with our feelings okay?"

I nodded vigorously in agreement, then remembering she couldn't see me answered, "Yeah, yes completely."

Ruth turned to stare at me impatiently, rolling her hands to hurry me up. I held up a finger asking for one second as I started the ignition. Clove was talking again and I tried to re-focus.

"…Over and we'll hash this out. I'm tired of everything feeling so goddamn shitty."

"Uh… I can't exactly do that at the moment," My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I pulled out of the driveway. Ruth seemed to acquiesce now that we were moving and turned to stare out at the rain. "I'm going to be honest and warn you I'm going to see Joney and Rue happens to be with me, she got a post card." Then I rushed to talk over Clove before she could interject at that new nugget of information. "It's time we told her the truth. It's _killing_ us and maybe if we faced what we did and told people, whoever is doing this might stop punishing us. The truth will set you free and all that bull." I shrugged awkwardly in the seat at my embarrassing finish of a monologue.

Ruth's head whipped back to analyze me acutely, her dark brown eyes gazing with a burning intensity. They seemed to hold various pieces to the puzzle, yet she couldn't seem to make everything fit, but she could definitely see it all had something to do with her brother. Thresh. Everything seemed to anymore.

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then some muffled words.

"Clove, did you hear me?"

Then there was a shriek and a scuffing sound against the phone. I held it from my ear and then felt a sharp jab of panic.

"_Clove_—"

"Yeah," She jumped back in, cutting my fear off at its knees. "I was just telling Glim. She hates the idea to say the least. She's calling Marvel now, he'll probably take her side." She sighed resentfully.

Aw, fuck. I had forgotten about Marvel. If I told and it got back to the police, which with Rue here it probably would now, he'd be in even more trouble, what with lying to the police about his attack. That's like obstruction of justice, _twice_ now. Maybe I should just—

"Luckily," Clove interrupted my thoughts, "he's stuck at the hospital and I can keep Glimmer busy for you while you do what's got to be done."

A surprised smile slipped across my face. Clove had my back. She would never say it in so many words, but she supported my actions, even if it turned out ugly for her in the end. Relief settled over me and my foot pushed a little harder against the gas pedal. The quicker we got to Johanna the sooner this weight would be off all of our shoulders.

"Thanks, Clove. Also, I think we should all re-group at Cato's. I'll bring the others if they still want, but no one is safe alone. We need to all stick together. Maybe even hole up at the hospital with Marvel. I don't know, but it's fucking stupid to all be off in our own separate houses."

"I'm not sure if that's the best idea."

"If it's because of Cato, I'm so sorry, you have to believe me. It only happened last night and, and I don't really know how to explain it. It's not how I would have wanted you—"

"Stop," Clove said forcefully.

I clamped down on my lips to halt the vomiting of words and the roiling feelings in my chest. Rue's face only sharpened with confusion and an anger that was leeching in around the edges.

"I… I think I always knew there was something, a connection—but well, we'll talk about it later." I could just imagine the look of consternation on Clove's face as she shook her head her asymmetrical bangs swing to-and-fro. "Now you just go do what's got to be done and yeah, we'll go to Cato's…" Clove released a long sigh. "Fuck. I don't hate you, okay?"

The line went dead.

"Okay." I spoke into the phone anyways. Then I put my phone in my lap.

I kept my eyes on the road afraid to look at Ruth knowing she was bound to start on me about something I said.

"What was that—Jesus Christ do you get a lot of calls!" Ruth yelled in frustration as she flailed back into her seat.

I looked at her apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but we're almost to The Capitol and I'll tell you everything."

Marvel. Of course he would call me as soon as Glimmer told him. I upped the speed of the wiper blades to deal with the increasing amount of rain and then answered.

"I know what you're going to say, but it's too late. I'm already headed to see her."

"You don't know what I was going to say, but fine, Peeta. You always do what you want anyways." He whispered into the phone sorrowfully. It caught me off guard.

"Are—are you okay, at the hospital?" I asked with genuine concern and hell if this wasn't awkward with Ruth listening in to my side of the conversation for everything.

"Oh yeah everything's fucking peachy here, just being held against my will while my friends make life altering decisions without me and probably put themselves directly in harms way." He still spoke quietly like it might actually hurt him to raise his voice at me.

I worried more about his safety at the hospital. There really needed to be a cop keeping watch on his room. I wanted to beg him to reconsider telling the police, to get protection, but instead I said accusatorially, "You mean Cato. Glim told you."

"Yeah she told me and it's fucking stupid. You can't trust him Peeta." Marvel practically begged on the other line hoping I might cave at the sound of his ragged voice. But I only righted my posture and felt myself steel for the inevitable confrontation everything seemed to be leading towards.

"It's happening, all of it and you better learn to deal." Then I hung up.

"Well shit." Ruth said in her exaggerated southern drawl. I had to agree, _well shit_.

We arrived at The Capitol boardwalk to find the lights starting to flicker on in the empty parking lot. Row after row of street lamps flared to life slowly revealing a spotted path towards the boardwalk. With the dark oppressing rain and rumbling clouds the lights seemed contained within a short circular radius, the rest left in petrifying darkness. The rain poured down at the concrete in a slant and glistened like so many fireflies as it flitted through the spotlights laid by the lamps. It was an eerie spectacle.

"Why is your friend even still here? Everything's closed." Ruth asked and even she seemed a little nervous.

"She must be doing inventory. That keeps her late."

I turned to open the handle on my door when Ruth grabbed my shoulder.

"This isn't some kind of…" She rolled her hands about before looking at me pointedly. "You're not gonna do me in or nothing, right?"

"Ha!" I laughed. Then realized that was probably not the best reaction and tried to manage a look of contrition. It was really the only response to a question like that, but from her end I could see how this looked. "No, I promise. Although someone might want to do me in."

"Great," She rolled out the r and rolled her eyes. "That makes me feel much better."

Not knowing how to respond to that so I didn't. We both hopped out of the car and bolted across the sketchily lit parking lot. One would think with all the money this place pulled in they would make a better lighting system.

Ruth's clothes were drenched by the time we reached the entrance to the Hob and my jeans didn't fare any better, the raincoat only saved me from so much. The rain was freezing and the frenzied wind outside didn't help. There was so much water pouring down that the collar of my shirt still got soaked as the rain blew in under my hood and leaked down my neck. Our shoes squelched with each pressured step of our foot.

The lights are all off in the front of the store, only a dim light filtered out from the back area of the store. The door stuck and I had to yank hard to pull it open. The chime above the door tinkled, but no one came from the back to greet us.

"Joney?" I called out tentatively. The air in the room was chilly and leeched the rest of our warmth.

"Uh, this is creepy and not helping with my earlier worry." Ruth stated. She was partly shielded behind my frame.

"Maybe she's in the back and just didn't hear us."

A nagging sensation at the back of my head kept me from truly believing that though. Something was wrong. I could feel it in the air. We should turn back, but I couldn't leave not knowing if Johanna was here. I went to pull out my phone to call her when I remembered I left it on the seat of my car in my lap instead of putting it back in my pocket. Lightning and thunder cracked outside almost in unison bathing the store for a moment in white light and noisily rattling the shot glass shelf.

"You stay by the door, I'm going to check in the back."

I moved towards the back, down the aisle of tacky tourist shirts. I checked behind me to see Rue waffling between standing inside the store and outside the door. My foot slid in something. My hand flew out to grip the rack next to me to keep steady as I looked down. A quick light flashed across the surface of the floor from a bolt of lightning and illuminated a dark puddle.

Before I could lean down to inspect it suddenly Ruth screamed and a shadow burst out from the clothes rack. I fell backward in panic and just missed the swing the person took at my face. The person was quick and pivoted to face me, a spark of metal glinting in an extended arm as it came to slash down on me with a ferocious cry.

"Joney, stop! Stop! It's me!" I held up my hands to block her attack as I shouted to get through to her.

Her hand froze in mid-air as the feral adrenaline in her eyes receded to be replaced by recognition as she took in my face.

"Christ." The corkscrew fell from her hands. She was shaking.

"What happened?" Ruth shouted from the door.

"We need to get out of here, some crazy fucker with a mask attacked me!" Johanna pulled herself together and wasted not time in yanking me to my feet and then shoving me towards the door.

"Did he have a porcelain doll mask?" I asked suddenly.

"Yeah and a big ass knife. Do you have a phone? Mine was charging in the back but it's gone!"

That's when my eyes noticed the wound to her shoulder. She'd been stabbed and was bleeding profusely from the wound. The yellow blouse she wore stained down her left flank to her jeans.

"In the car, where'd he go?" I asked, checking every dark corner and crevice with a manic twitch as we rushed towards the door.

"Fuck if I know, he just came out of no where and got me then disappeared a few minutes ago. Maybe he heard you come—what the hell is Rue doing here?"

"Ruth," She stated stubbornly, obviously annoyed no one seemed to take her name change to heart. "And did you say someone attacked you?" Ruth's pinched face looked like she'd eaten something particularly sour when her eyes alighted on the bloody wound to Johanna's shoulder.

"Yes, talk later, car now!" I demanded and we all hurried out to the boardwalk in the icy rain.

One could barely hear our racing footsteps on the wooden planks of the boardwalk as we raced back towards the parking lot. I barely had time to register everything that had happened in the store before there was a terrible shriek that stabbed at my eardrums and chilled me to the bone more fully than the icy rain could ever manage.

Skidding to a halt I turned back to find the killer had snatched Ruth from behind with one arm locked tight around her neck. She struggled against his large frame, but it was useless. She was too small to be of any resistance.

"No!" I screamed and tried to run to her, but Johanna seized my arm and tugged me back. It was too late as the large knife in Doll Face's hand jammed into the soft flesh of Rue's belly and with a flick of the wrist, almost like it were nothing but cutting through tissue paper, he tore open her stomach. Her scream only lasted a second before it was silenced, the life torn from her as her insides fell out. The gore and guts hit the boardwalk with a wet slop before Rue's body followed a second later, lifeless and still. The pouring rain quickly washed the knife clean and spread the blood about the deck.

"This way!" Johanna shouted over the storm and tugged at my arm, leading us down the pier towards Capital Park instead of away towards the car lot. Doll Face just watched us through the black holes where eyes should be, taking in our movements and motivations like he knew exactly what we were doing.

"Why lead us out here, it's a dead end!"

"All the rides have emergency phones, just pick it up and we can call for help."

I would have kissed Johanna if I weren't so fucking terrified and on the verge of vomiting. Rue was dead. She was dead because of me. If I hadn't taken her along on this she'd still be alive. But I didn't have time to think like that with a crazed lunatic close on our tail. If I'd had more time I would have questioned how she fit into this. It didn't make sense, but nothing did as synapses fired in my brain only to fail to connect when a fresh shock of terror spiked through my body.

It was almost impossible to see anything as the rain came down in thick sheets against my face. Water clung to my eyelashes in thick beads and obscured my view and then my foot slid against a particularly slick plank on the pier. I was down and dazed on my back. Johanna cursed and helped pull me back up then after a frenzied look around the pier she lead me to the right and the nearest pier ride. I couldn't tell which it was but she led me around the side in through the emergency exit.

It was dark and my eyes refused to adjust.

"Johanna," I hissed. "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure. Look for something to barricade the door. I'll try to find a light switch and the phone."

Johanna's footsteps padded away from me down the hall as I frantically searched the door in front of me, the break room I supposed, for something to block the door. The emergency exit must have been broken to open from the outside. Our only chance to keep him out was to block it. I fought to keep my muscles from petrifying; they had to keep working just a little longer until we got help.

The rain could be heard pelting the metal roof of the building like hundreds of tossed pennies. My eyes adjusted and I found a small couch in the dark room, which I then positioned myself behind and began pushing towards the exit door. Then I heard the electrical hum of machinery coming to life and soon after all the lights in the building flickered on. I shielded my eyes with the crook of my elbow for a second.

"Johanna, did you do that you?" I called out down the hall.

A ghoulish scream ghosted down the empty hallway. It was a familiar sound I had heard many times before when I was much younger, but couldn't place. Then it was followed by a scream I could place, Johanna.

"Joney!" I jumped over the couch and took off down the hallway looking for the source of the scream, praying I wouldn't find another dead body. Not another friend.

A few drops of blood glistened against the concrete floor leading towards another metal door on my right, which I burst through it hoping to find Johanna but bracing to find Doll Face. A fresh wave of panic flooded my system as an ominous soundtrack with animalistic howls and shrieks of pain assaulted my ears. We had run right into the Capital Park House of Horrors.

Johanna must have ended up in here when everything powered on and screamed in fright. At least that's what I chose to believe as I wondered further in the maze. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and I couldn't decide if they were real or fake. One that caught against my face felt real enough as I struggled to rip the sticky substance off. The lights were dim and almost non-existent. Thunder rumbled and it might have been real or part of the soundtrack. The walls shook and large spiders dropped from the ceiling on silvery wire. I batted aside the animatronics and continued on towards the opening ahead.

As I approached blood stained plastic flaps that would lead to a wide open expanse a maniacal clown's laugh echoed from my left followed by the slam of something bursting open, every few seconds I jumped as a new sense was assaulted in terror. The room was beginning to smell like smoke as the fog machines pumped, creaks and howls and shrieks accosted my ears in terrifying soundtrack that made me second guess every movement in the place. Was that coffin in the fake graveyard to my right moving because it was part of the haunted house or was someone in it? Was that scream Johanna's or pre-recorded? I couldn't fucking tell! The building terror limited my cognitive abilities. If only I could just think clearly. My nerves felt like they were working into a tight knot like twisted steel that could never be undone. I'd need bolt-cutters to break them.

Every few feet I whispered Johanna's name, not wanting to announce my presence to far around the maze. The fog covered grounds of the cemetery lead towards a building of decrepit wood and mold. It was supposed to be a mental hospital abandoned long ago, but haunted by various deranged humans and supernatural creatures, luckily they were off the clock. The inside became tight turns and encroaching walls with skeletons that dropped from the ceiling and doors that banged open and closed on their own. I didn't know if I had the nerve to go inside searching for her when—

"AH!"

Johanna, that was her scream. It came from inside. I raced forward without hesitation and flew through the open door. The soundtrack became louder with the rickety groans of an aged building and the sounds of mental patients screaming in pain as they were forcefully treated with electro-shock therapy. A door slammed further ahead and I fell back into the wall wishing I could just sink into it.

"Johanna!" I called out for her and began moving forward again, forcing the terror down to join the sick feeling in my stomach.

"Peeta! Help!" Her voice sounded faint and like it was coming from above me, but the maze didn't go up.

I saw ahead and to the right the faint glow of a red exit sign. I ran towards it. That was the door that slammed. When I pushed through there was another door marked exit and a stairwell leading up. I pounded up the stairs and noticed they were already wet, someone else just as soaked as me had run up these stairs not long ago.

"I'm coming Johanna!"

When I reached the top of the steps I heard a scream in warning from my left and then the killer was in front of me with his knife. I slid against a small puddle and lost my balance, just as the tip of his knife slit across the front of my rain jacket ripping it open and grazing my chest. Then I tumbled down the stairs backwards, head over foot. I smashed against the bottom and groaned in pain. Every inch of my body screamed out and I refrained from moving to try and gauge whether anything was broken.

"No you don't!" Johanna cried and I looked up to see her tackle the masked man from behind. They both then fell down the stairs in a jumbled heap right towards me. I quickly rolled to the right as they crashed into the spot I had just been.

"Fuck," Johanna cried out and tried to scramble away from Doll Face, but he was crumpled atop her legs.

Quickly pulling myself up I rushed the killer hoping to draw him off Johanna so she'd have a chance, but his knife sliced out towards my left leg. I hopped on my right foot backwards and away from the knife, but it caught against my right ankle. I managed to land a kick to his chest with my raised foot before my the laceration on right ankle brought me back down against the concrete floor with a strangled cry. I could feel the hot blood spill from my wound. It felt nice as it warmed my frozen foot. The adrenaline helped mask the pain.

"Fucking run, Peeta!" Johanna screamed as she pulled herself up and ran towards the opposite door that would lead back into the haunted house.

But there was no way I was leaving her behind. I gripped an exposed pipe near the wall to try to right myself and help Johanna when the killer fluidly jumped to his feet and caught Johanna by the collar of her shirt. She made a choked sound as the fabric pulled taut against her neck.

"Don't you touch her!" I screamed hoarsely. It was like my lungs had given up, knowing the inevitable and they couldn't bear to put the full effort into. But my body refused to believe it, even as the long jagged edge of the hunter's knife sunk into the lower back of Johanna.

Her guttural cry of pain was like it had been finely tuned to a perfect pitch that raised every hair on my body and induced a terrible nausea. I could barely see as my eyes watered with the bile that rose in my throat and the sound of flesh separating as the knife sunk back in a second and third time before Johanna collapsed through the door back into the haunted house. The door caught against her body and remained open, the deranged soundtrack from the haunted house leaking back into the room.

Doll Face slowly rotated on his heel to turn and face me. It was in that moment that I realized I was standing and everything was dizzy. He was slowly encroaching. Nothing stood between the sharp edges of his blade now slick with Johanna's blood and me. With no weapon and no defense my back was up against the wall. Then suddenly the wall gave as I realized it was the emergency exit.

Running harder than I ever had in my life I pushed myself towards the darkened car lot, my jeep and escape. Even with the cut to my ankle throbbing with a vengeful pain that threatened to knock me kilter as I ran I never once stumbled. It had to be shock. I couldn't feel anything. Not the wind and rain against my face nor the pavement beneath my feet.

Then I was safe inside my jeep and numbly trying to get the keys in the ignition. I held it too long until the engine started to stutter and I let off. I revved the engine. Satisfied that it was working I thrust the car into drive and skidded out of the parking lot. When I look in the rearview mirror I thought I saw the glint of a porcelain mask near one of the street lamps, but I was already too far from the parking lot to be sure.

Why was it still raining? I wondered frustrated as I wiped at my face trying to clear my vision, but the beads of water continued to get caught against my eyelashes. Then I realized it wasn't rainwater, but tears. A strangled sob escaped my tightly pursed lips like I'd swallowed a terrified cat. I shook my head to clear it for a moment as I raced through the stormy streets back towards civilization. I needed to call the police! There were now two dead bodies at the Capitol Boardwalk.

Johanna's body.

The car swerved as my arm gave an involuntary jerk. I felt blindly between my legs for my smartphone, but found nothing but wet upholstery. Where was it? When I took a turn too fast, not paying attention to where I was going I heard something slid across the floor of my car and thunk against he door. My phone must have fallen. Again I reached between my legs to blindly grope for the cell phone. My fingers were still numb from the rain and not working, I couldn't quite tell exactly what I was feeling as they came up against the rubber matted floor.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I ducked my head down for a quick look to locate the phone and found it now caught behind the brake pedal. I forced my foot to let up just a little on the gas, but I was too terrified to stop the car. I knew it was irrational, but Doll Face was almost like a ghost. He appeared and disappeared at whim, leaving me to look like a fool for the police and then suddenly materializing to attack Marvel or gut Rue.

When I looked back up I realized I was about to miss the curve in the street that would lead up towards Glimmer and Cato's houses. I slammed on the brakes, but suddenly nothing worked as I tried to steer the wheel to the right. I was hydroplaning. My car was sliding at breakneck speed right towards the embankment. I frantically yanked on the wheel, forgetting all I had learned about how you should properly handle hydroplaning, like no drastic steering of the wheel. Suddenly my car turned perpendicular to its previous direction, continuing to skim along the surface of the road and then it flipped. Once, twice, then I lost count as everything went black and the airbag blew up in my face.

**Okay, how was that? Everyone still with me? I can promise that from here on out I will begin answering every mystery I've set up! I do hope to here from you with a review!**


	13. House of Horrors Part 2

**I'm terrible, I know. I leave you with a car accident and then it's another long delay for this chapter. But I hope this one makes up for it, one burning question in particular is resolved. We've only got two more installments left (and maybe an epilogue, I'm still debating), so enjoy!**

House of Horrors Part 2

"You've reached Johanna, leave message or don't, I really couldn't care."

A grating automated beep quickly followed like nails on a chalkboard.

"Answer your damn phones!" Clove shouted into her phone and then jammed her finger with excessive force against the screen. "I can't reach either of them. It just keeps going straight to voicemail."

Rain came in thick sheets from the turbulent sky. Silhouetted by harsh strikes of lightning, Clove stood out against the large bay windows of Glimmers living room like a ship lost at sea. It was a lonely image, one she had crafted for her protection. It was hard to tell outside where the grey clouds ended and the white-capped ocean began. Everything was shrouded by the storm, bogged down by the weight of the precipitation. The lightning forked across the sky and illuminated a peculiar movement, but the rain was like a curtain, impenetrable to her calculating eye. If she could cry, let her emotions out of the carefully crafted box they were tightly sealed away in it would probably look like the picture before her: bleak, endless and wet.

Glimmer tromped down the spiral staircase into the open living room wearing an outlandish iridescent metallic trench coat that cut off above the knees and canary yellow galoshes. Despite the chance to wear a new outfit for the rain, the excitement she normally entertained for such an opportunity was washed from her face and replaced by wild-eyed fear. Her mane of hair radiated out cockeyed like a balloon was rubbed against it until brimming with static electricity it stood on end.

"I don't like this one bit," Glimmer said chewing on a nail. Then seeming to realize what she was doing withdrew it with a look of horror.

"I just did those," She whined to herself.

"What are you going on about now?" Clove turned about and eyed Glimmers gear from head to toe with a single raised eyebrow.

"Nothing." Glimmer contained her pout with a harsh eye trained on Clove.

"Well I was going to wait for Peeta, but can't reach him or Johanna. We should go to Cato's, that's where he said he would meet us. We need to stick to the plan."

Clove headed for the door, but Glimmer stood her ground and shook her head.

"No. I think this is a bad idea, all of it. We should go to the hospital. I trust Marvel."

Clove pleaded upward for a divine intervention having already dealt with her friend's hesitance with little success.

"I really don't know what else to say to convince you, but we _need_ to get to Cato's." Clove was over letting Marvel dictate the show at this point. "I'm not sitting around and discussing this anymore. It's all gonna happen, whether you want it to or not, _Princess_." She tried achieving forbearing, but Glimmer didn't notice.

"Stop fucking calling me that! I'm not a princess!" Glimmer shouted and then snapped her mouth shut with a hand placed over top, startled by her own outburst as much as Clove. She removed her hand, her eyes shifting to and fro as she came to a realization.

"I know you think all the color treatments have fried my brain," Said Clove, slowly continuing to build up steam as she went along, "And that fashion is some pointless, stupid hobby. That I'm shallow, too obsessed with looks, and only care about myself, but I have been your friend for far too long for you to have such a simple view of me. So stop writing me off as an entitled brat undeserving of your time or respect! Stop walking all over me and shitting on our friendship!"

Shaking, Glimmer lowered the finger she was poking the air with while she spoke. Then she walked past Clove into the foyer with a determined gait. Clove was static, the cogs clunking behind her eyes trying to get a handle on the outburst and formulate a response. An image of Glimmer and her as children collecting seashells on the beach to make jewelry floated to the surface of her mind. A memory long forgotten since their friendship imploded. A simpler time filled with mutual respect and easy friendship.

"I'm sorry!" Clove rasped. It scrapped against the skin of her throat on the way out, torn from the dark corner of her soul where all good things had been banished, long ago determined undeserved to her.

Clove turned on her heel to face Glimmer. Her hand was already on the doorknob, ready to open and march away from her friend when she froze. Glimmer gazed at Clove through her blonde locks inquisitively over her shoulder, debating the merits of the apology when something flitted across Clove's face: confusion. It was there and gone in a second, replaced with an expression of stunned recognition.

"Glimmer…" Clove gasped. "Get back!"

Suddenly the doorknob twisted in Glimmer's hand and rammed open, throwing an unsuspecting Glimmer backwards onto the marble floor. It was all so sudden and there was little time to think as Doll Face burst through the front door, but Clove was quicker as she raced forward and pulled Glim back to her feet.

Doll Face slew forward with his knife and managed to slash a deep cut into Clove's hand that clutched at Glimmer's upper arm. Blood flecked Glim's metallic coat dampening its iridescent hue. Clove cried out and let go of Glimmer, who stumbled, off-kilter from being pulled forward by Clove. Doll Face launched forward and barreled into the back of Glimmer, taking her down again and knocking Clove off to the side where she hit the wall head first. Glimmer was crushed against the ground with the weight of the intruder on her back and she cried out in terror as he adjusted atop her back, his thighs forcefully holding her in place on either side of her body. Fear coiled in the pit of Glimmer's stomach like a snake pulling in on itself. The slick slide of the fear in her intestines induced a full body tremor she couldn't fight off.

"NOOO!" Her scream pierced the air like a needle just as Doll Face brought the first strike of the knife down into her right shoulder blade.

Clove pushed up from her spot on the ground, blood smearing against the marble floor from her cut as she searched for a weapon. Doll Face twisted the knife in Glimmer back, eliciting another shriek, before ripping it out and bringing it back down again. Blood spurted and flew about like droplets of rain, staining the tile and the smooth porcelain of his mask.

"Get the fuck away from my friend!" Clove shouted as she crashed a large vase against the back of the black hooded killer's head. It smashed into pieces and seemed to disorient the mad man, allowing Clove to kick with all her small-bodied strength into his side, knocking him off Glimmer's back.

"C'mon, you gotta help me out!" Clove begged with a strangled sob as she tried to pull Glimmer back to her feet. The cut on her right hand was deep and bled profusely, which would have made it hard to keep hold of her friend if she could even use it. Something was wrong with it though, as she couldn't seem to control her fingers.

Blood was seeping from Glimmers multiple wounds at a startling rate, slickening her metallic coat. A gurgled groan escaped from Glimmer's mouth as she was pulled upright by Clove's working hand, but she couldn't stand on her own and Clove was unprepared for her weight, stumbling backwards with her taller friend. There was one step down between the living room and foyer and that's were all balance was lost and they toppled back together, Glimmer falling right atop Clove.

"No, no, get up! Glimmer, come _on_!" Clove shriek in a frenzied panic as she slapped at the sides of her best friend. She tried pushing her off, but Glimmer was mostly dead weight now, groaning in terrible pain as her face mashed against the crook of Clove's neck.

"Pl-ease!" Clove sobbed. Terrified tears streaked down her face as a shadow fell over top of the pair, followed by a strong pressure against her abdomen as Glimmer suddenly writhed in terrible pain.

Doll Face planted a foot against Glimmer's back and was pressing down against her, the pressure reaching all the way through to Clove's stomach. Clove violently twisted and turned, trying to scramble free from underneath her friend as the cold white mask glared down at the pair.

"Oh shit, oh shit. No, please, you don't have t-to do this." Clove's voice rose to a terrible pitch as she pleaded; her strong, cavalier attitude swiftly demolished in the presence of impending death. "We're s-sorry, so, so sorry! I'll turn myself in. We all will, PLEASE, I don't wanna die— AHH!"

Her begging scream broke off with a cry of pain as a terrible crack resounded throughout the foyer, one of Glimmer's ribs snapped from the ratcheting up of pressure by the attackers foot. A gurgled cry spewed from Glimmer's mouth into Clove's neck. It was wet with a mixture of spit and blood.

Then the pressure was gone and the foot was placed back on the marble, but now his feet were on either side of the two girls as he towered over them. Clove used the opportunity to rock back and forth, trying to dislodge Glimmer one way or the other when suddenly silver streaked through the air and –

"OH JESUS, oh fuck, NO!" Clove cried and then she screamed and screamed like it was the end of the world as Glimmer convulsed atop of her, the hunting knife lodged deep in the back of her best friends skull. Blood poured out soaking her beautiful golden locks a deep crimson.

The seizure of Glimmer's body gave Clove just enough momentum to roll her friends body off her to the left and with her right leg she kicked upward, landing an awkward blow to Doll Face's groin. A startled grunt escaped from the mask as he fell to the side, clasping his crotch.

Wasting no time, Clove dragged her left leg out from under her best friend's body. Her friend of 19 years, her friend she'd known since birth, her friend she turned her back on over a year ago and who was now motionless and dead with a knife plunged in the back of her head. She needed to run, escape.

She stood on shaky legs with one last glance at her dead friend before turning to race towards the open front door when she decided to go back for the knife. As she lunged for the weapon lodged in her friends skull Doll Face tackled her from the side and they both landed atop the glass coffee table with a crash. Fractured bits of glass slashed at Cloves cheek and stabbed into the flesh of her thigh. A large shard stuck out from Doll Face's shoulder. A shuddery breath escaped his mask as he rolled atop the crunched glass and ripped the piece from his shoulder.

Kicking away from her attacker Clove scuttled backwards until she hit the bright blue Frank Gehry sofa. She pushed herself up and jumped over the back of it just as Doll Face slashed at the sofa with a large piece of blood stained glass. He quickly followed suit over the back of the couch hot on her tail. She feinted to the left, but then went to the right towards the front door. But again her pursuer was too quick, not falling for her ruse and effectively cutting off her escape, forcing her up the stairs.

As Clove ran up the steps fighting for her life, she couldn't help but realize how cliché her actions were, but there was nothing to be done by it. Doll Face was too close behind her and she was quickly running out of options.

"HELP! HELP!" Clove yelled herself hoarse as she raced down the hallway towards the back of the house. She knew it was a lost cause, the nearest neighbor was Cato and he was still too far up the road for her to be heard, especially with the thunderstorm.

Swiftly the hall came to an end and she threw herself into the guest bedroom on her right. Just as she turned to fling the door closed Doll Face rammed himself against it, throwing Clove's small frame flying. She landed against the bed and jostled with the bounce of the springs before parrying a blow to the right as the shard of glass was slashed at her yet again.

Her adrenaline was beginning to wane, exhaustion creeping in. Feeling began to reawaken in her body as the gash to her hand throbbed and the cuts to her cheek stung like little needle pricks. But the fear never ebbed; it surged through her body, crashing against the inside of her chest like a battering ram. Her ribcage ached with fear and the growing black void that numbly consumed everything she had lost.

Another attack came and this time she couldn't avoid it. The masked man slammed into her. A scalding sensation exploded between her ribs as the sound of glass shattering spiked in her eardrums and then suddenly everything was soaking wet as she collided with cold hard tile. Her head spun as she tried to grasp what had happened. Water pelted her face and her breaths came in sharp stuttered bursts. Doll Face had tackled her through the sliding glass door and out onto the terrace.

Before she had a chance to even think of fighting back she was ripped upward and slammed against the railing. The sharp, cold metal dug into her mid-back and left her gasping for breath.

"No, no, NO! Lemme go!"

She fought with both hands against Doll Face, with every ounce of energy she had left, slapping and scrapping for purchase. Each hit wasn't hard enough to do damage, but she hoped to at least disorient him. Her good hand was suddenly in a crushing grip as his other gloved hand reached down beneath her breast and tore out the shard of glass he'd stabbed her with. She felt the burning sting down to her frigid toes and the warmth of her blood trickling down her side. Clove gasped in pain and knew it was all going to be over soon, time was up. But fuck if she was going to die staring into the face of a perverted American Girl doll mask.

With the one free broken hand she managed to thrust forward and hit the mask on his face. Blood smeared across the smooth porcelain surface, but her hand wouldn't work, it couldn't grasp the edges. But he stumbled back from the slap to the face. The mask was crooked. His vision was compromised. While trying to quickly adjust it, Clove managed to break her other hand free and claw off the mask where it cleaved in two upon the ground only to feel like all the air had been stripped from her lungs. She couldn't breath. She couldn't think. _The betrayal. _She needed it to end and not at _his _hands.

And so she tipped backwards and let gravity do the rest.

* * *

It was dark. Everything was spinning, even though it was pitch black, even though I couldn't technically see the world spinning, I still felt it. If it didn't stop soon I was sure to vomit.

Slowly the spinning subsided, but everything remained dark. Then, one-by-one, my senses returned to me like long forgotten memories that suddenly reappear in the minds eye and you wonder how you could have ever forgotten it in the first place.

First my hearing returned. It was the sound of a slow, but constant tapping. It rings out with a small, hallow metallic clang every few seconds, along with the sound of escaping air and groaning. I was the one groaning.

That was the second sense to return, feeling in my body. My head ached as if I it were a tough piece of meat beat soft with a tenderizer by an overenthusiastic Sous Chef, which probably accounted for the spinning head and nausea. My mouth felt dry and swollen with cotton. My nose throbbed and a strip of my chest stung like I had a bad case of rug burn.

Then my sense of smell and sight returned at the same time. My nose twitched from the sharp scent of burnt rubber and smoke, while my eyes cracked open and took in the dim light before me that spotlighted a cluster of palm trees a few feet before my car.

Unsure of where I was or what I was doing here I turned my head about to get my bearings only to hiss in pain as a bone popped in my neck.

"Fuck…" I groaned, reaching up with a hand to rub the back of my neck.

As my eyes swept over the interior of the car my brain finally caught up with the rest of my body. Holy fuck, I was just in a car wreck. I jerked forward only to catch against the seat belt, which explained the burn against my chest. I brought my hand up to my nose and felt it tenderly, it might have been broken and there was definitely blood. It was starting to dry, which made me wonder how long I had been out.

It was dark, but no longer because of the rain. The storm seemed to have finally cleared, but the soaked tree branches above my car still leaked a steady drop of water against the hood of my car. Smoke leaked from the dented hood and the windshield was splintered with a spider webbing of cracks making it almost impossible to see out.

I could see my car had rolled a good distance off the side of the road, but by some miracle the car had landed right side up. My hands flew over the rest of my body, checking for any more serious injuries, but besides the broken nose, serious seatbelt burn and twinge in my neck I was fine.

With the knowledge of my well being attained the rest came flooding back. Doll Face. Rue's guts spewed all over the boardwalk. The House of Horrors. Johanna stabbed in the back…

"Oh god, Joney…"

My watering eyes focused on the limp and deflated airbag that hung from the steering wheel. It may have saved my life, but now it hung lifeless before me and it was too much.

There was tightness in my chest. It felt like my lungs were swelling, inflating, but there was no air. It was too tight, there was no more room in my chest, but it kept expanding. I couldn't breathe in. I was suffocating. My fingernails scraped against the material of my raincoat until I had it unzipped and then they dug at my chest, trying to tear out what was smothering me. There was more blood, from the knife slash against my chest, it coated the tips of my fingers, but it meant nothing.

Then an image floated into my eye, one of an outcropping of cliffs and an endless blue ocean. I was back on that bench along the PCH that Cato drove me to not many days ago. The memory of the scene, the quiet serenity, the peace brought by his proximity, slowly, surely brought me back. Small breaths became bigger, in through my nose and long and shuddering out my mouth.

My phone. With my body back under control I unbuckled and searched between my legs for my Iphone, only it was no were to be found. Fuck, the others could be in trouble. Who knew how long I had been unconscious. They could be in serious danger, if not already dead. I had to get to them. I had to call for help.

"Well here goes nothing." I shrugged to myself as I turned the ignition with a silent prayer on my lips.

The engine turned over once, twice, three times and then stuttered out.

"C'mon, please…"

I turned the key again and miraculously the engine roared to life. I slapped the top of the steering wheel in triumph and then I propped my legs atop my dashboard, ignoring the pain in my back at the position. Taking a deep breath I kicked both feet forward and it only took that one well placed hit to completely dislodge the windshield.

Now able to see I quickly readjusted and guided my jeep back to the road. The car may have whined disconcertingly the whole drive and jerked forebodingly, but it made it to Cato's house in one piece, letting out a satisfied sigh when I shut the engine off. It was probably the last drive she would make, but no matter, because I was at my destination.

There were no cars in the driveway, not even Cato's, which was worrisome, but the girls could have walked over. I needed to find them, we needed to regroup, we were not safe apart. If they weren't here then maybe everyone was at the hospital. It was wishful thinking and I clung to it in desperation.

The front door swung inward with a foreboding creak and suddenly I was back in the House of Horrors, winding my way through the tight dark corridors, searching for my friend, but expecting a knife to the gut.

"Cato? Clove? Anyone?" I called out, hesitantly stepping into Cato's darkened manor.

The air was frozen and arid like some warehouse cooler. All the lights were out and the darkness was overpowering. It penetrated my deepest layers and turned me to nothing more than a frightened child paralyzed by the dark. I forced myself to move forward. I had a mission. I needed a phone. The police needed to be notified. I had to find my friends.

The kitchen was down the corridor to my left and I knew there was a working phone there. I quickly headed that way, my ears straining to pick out any sounds that were out of the ordinary. Every step forward in the darkness felt like a leap of faith, my foot would either connect with solid ground or I'd plummet over the edge, the ground having finally run out, the time having come to meet my maker.

Except I met nothing out of the ordinary on my trek down the black hallway, there were no unusual sounds or crazed masked killers waiting for me. Slowly a weak light leached out into the hallway from the archway leading to the overly spacious kitchen. Hesitating for a moment, I took the opportunity to breath deeply and brace myself for what lay on the other side. Then I took the plunge.

The kitchen was empty except for a frozen dinner sitting on the counter. The weak glow above the stove was the only source of light in the kitchen. My eyes honed in on the phone positioned on the wall next to the refrigerator. I ran forward, my heart leaping to my throat, the feel of salvation at my fingertips, only to have my heart plummet and a cold sweat break out across my forehead. The line was dead and the cord cut.

"Fuck," I hissed.

That's when I heard it. A sound, it stood out from the uncanny and suffocating silence that had enveloped Cato's large mansion. A rustling sound, like the wind beating against a large flag. Or maybe it was scraping? I couldn't tell as fear coiled in my stomach, round and round and all through out my body like iron chains imprisoning me and making it impossible to move.

The sound came from the inky black beyond the counter that fought to take over the rest of the room, only held at bay by the light above the stove. There were multiple light switches to my left, if I could only get my arm to move just a few inches up and over I could turn them on.

Slow and shaky my arm began to lift away from my side, stiff as cardboard, but moving nonetheless until the reached the cold and sticky switches, sticky with congealed blood. Something blood covered had swiped across the light switches; I bit my tongue and ignored the thoughts that raced through my mind. I flipped the first switch. Nothing. Then the second and heard a static hiss and a small spark of light, something was visible for a split second and I swallowed reflexively. One more switch, my finger caught against the underside and then flicked up.

Cato's kitchen led to a dinning room, one only used for breakfast or personal meals, they had a larger more ostentatious one for dinner parties. The room had spotlights around the corners that bathed the round maple table in the center with a delicate light and amplified the light from the older chandelier that hung above it. The spotlights burst into being and finally banished the dark, but only to reveal the truly hideous sight hidden beneath the blackness.

The chandelier's lights spat and sparked angrily as a silent scream ghosted out my throat. Hanging from the chandelier was the nurse I had seen the week before, Octavia. Her hands were tied to the chandelier with twine and a tablecloth had been fastened around her waist and tied up around the base of the ghastly sparking light fixture. The cloth was soaked in blood and her head hung limply forward against her chest. Her feet moved with an invisible breeze to just barely scrap against the tabletop. Her chest was mutilated with deep, gutting wounds and I turned away at the sight, gagging with the recognition that white bone of her ribcage was visible.

I rummaged through the drawers, not caring if the noise drew someone as my fingers wrapped around the base of a large kitchen knife. Finally, I had a form of protection. I held it close to my chest and ran out into the hallway only to jump and fall against the wall, my arm out stretched and slashing with the knife for protection. A thud from upstairs startled me into thinking I was being attacked.

Someone was still here.

It would be completely idiotic to seek out the source of the sound and yet I found myself maneuvering through the dark hallway yet again towards the north wing's stairwell. If any of my friends were still here, alive, if Cato was still here I had to know. I left things on too awful a note for this to be it with Cato. I had to help if I could. I wasn't losing anyone else to this sick fuck.

Once upstairs I did a quick inspection and found everything just as empty and abandoned looking as downstairs. A sharp smell pricked at my nose, but I had nothing to base it on so it went unidentified. I maneuver down one hallway then another, encountering the same stifling darkness as before. The next turn was still just as dark and creepy as the last apart from one light down near the end of the hall. I knew that room. I had been there before, but never inside. He had to be in there.

With the hope that I would soon be reunited with a friend, I brazenly raced towards the cracked door and the light spilling out into the dark hallway. I burst through the door with Cato's name on my lips before it died off with a strangled groan.

"Oh, god no…"

Face down on the floor was another body, this one vividly recognizable for her badger streaked hair and paisley nightgown. A large, black pool of blood seeped out around her body soaking the carpet. I rushed forward, maybe she was still alive, but once my hand connected with the flesh of her bare shoulder I knew it was useless. Her body was cold as ice and pale as the ceramic dolls littering her room.

Wait.

My eyes did a double take just to be sure, but there was no denying it. Her room was decorated with innumerable porcelain doll figurines. They lined the walls and the dresser; they stood sentry on the windowsills and sat atop the trunk at the foot of her bed, which held broken restraints.

"What the hell?" I stood up and began backing towards the door when I heard a click and the hackles on the back of my neck stood to attention.

Slowly I turned, my fingers tightening their grip on the knife and suddenly I was face-to-face with—

"C-Cato?" I stuttered in disbelief. It was like the air had been vacuum suctioned from the room, leaving me weightless and with out air to breathe.

His torso was stained with blood as he stood before the now closed doorway. I couldn't tell if any of it was his, except for the cuts to his arm, which definitely looked self-inflicted. Worst of all he still held a large and terrible knife, one that haunted my dreams for the past year and would probably never stop, if I had any time left to dream. The long serrated hunters knife dripped with blood from Cato's white-knuckled grip.

"There's a killer in us all…" Cato murmured to himself.

He moved forward and I stumbled back with a wave of my knife, dwarfed in comparison to his.

"You—you stay where you are!"

Cato kept creeping forward, small and tentative. His eyes were glazed over and it felt like he was looking right through me. The rest of his face was wrapped in a smooth blanket of detachment like the cool gleam of the moon's light on a dark placid lake just mirroring back images it could never feel.

_Oh Jesus, not Cato_!

I wanted scream, to fight and punch and slash, I wanted to run, but I couldn't do anything. It was all too overwhelming.

"… but I didn't know. Not till now." Cato paused. Suddenly his eyes came into focus. His pupils dilated and a flush crept into his cheeks. "Peeta? Did I do something wrong?"

If he hadn't said that, if he hadn't said those exact words there might have been hope. But the vestiges of that were suddenly and terribly burnt out with a flare like sun searing everything and blinding me. It brought me back to a night I never wanted to relive. It made everything click into place. It was so much worse than I could have ever imagined…

* * *

Cato had taken the curve too fast. The car skidded, losing traction. He hit the brakes and they squealed loudly. Peeta broke free from Marvel's magnetic lips to glare, along with Glimmer, at Cato. Peeta was more offended at having been interrupted from kissing than anything, Glimmer mad she was being whipped about.

It finally registered to Cato why it seemed even more dark than usual. He didn't even have the headlights on. He turned them on just in time to see Thresh's car, which was pulled off the road to the right and a strong emotion coursed through Cato. He slammed on his brakes again. Peeta and Glimmer both screamed obscenities, everyone's body jolted forward.

"Cato, seriously, _what the fuck_?" Glimmer screeched.

"Jesus, dude. Give us a warning," Marvel grumbled, pulling his hand from Peeta's pants.

"Be careful, this isn't some sports car!" Peeta berated from the back seat, rubbing at his shoulder blade where the seat belt had tugged him too tight at the abrupt stop.

All of the complaints fell on deaf ears, as Cato was already unbuckled and storming out of the car. The sound of blood rushing in his ears was all he could hear. His head felt extremely light headed, like he was submerged in brackish water, unable to tell where he was swimming and quickly running out of air.

Everyone in the car looked at each other perplexed.

"What's he doing?" Glimmer whispered, almost afraid to actually get an answer as she watched through the front windshield as Cato marched his bulky frame towards the rusted red Chevy truck parked on the side of the road, over looking the bluffs.

Peeta started to get a worrying sensation in the pit of his stomach and it wasn't the alcohol wanting to come back up.

"I don't know, but that's Thresh's car."

Peeta disentangled from Marvel and started to get out of the car. Marvel cursed under his breath and did the same. Glimmer stayed put in the front seat, a casual observer.

The windows in the cab of the truck were fogged up, but Thresh heard the approach and was tumbling out the passenger's side. He was in a black wife beater and his belt was inauspiciously undone. Cato didn't fail to notice that detail, nor the self-satisfied smirk that sat on Thresh's squared jaw.

Clove quickly followed Thresh, stumbling out of the car with a disgruntled look of barely contained contempt. She quickly tried to zip up the back of her lace dress and straighten the fallen strap on her shoulder.

Thresh was laughing, working up to say something, "Well look who's—" when he was cut off with a right hook to the jaw that knocked him into the side of his car. Before anything more could happen Clove jumped in front of Thresh with a screech.

"Marvel, do something!" Peeta hissed. They stood off behind Cato, unsure how to intervene while Clove stood between the two towering titan's on the verge of a death match.

Thresh spit out blood as he straightened. One hand crept into the back bed of his pick up truck.

"Go home Cato!" Clove ordered with a fierce look, but Cato barely registered her. He was solely focused on Thresh.

"Get out of my way."

"I fucked her real good. Like a real man would."

"Thresh!" Clove was aghast. She was beginning to realize she'd set into motion something she could not undo by going to the party with Thresh. She'd only wanted to hurt Cato like he hurt her, but maybe she had gone too far.

Cato shoved Clove aside and she fell against the asphalt. Peeta ran to her side to help her, choking on the shout for his boyfriend to do something as his sudden movement triggered the nausea from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed earlier.

Cato crowded right up into Thresh's personal space, their massive chests touching during the rise and fall of their furious breath.

"Say that again." Cato growled, fangs bared.

"I fucked her like a real man would. That pussy was wet and begging for my big, black cock." He enunciated each word slow and deliberate. He grinned maliciously as his barbed words lanced at Cato's face, twisting it into an unrecognizable mask of hate.

"Don't let him talk to you like that, Cato!" Marvel shouted from behind Cato. Peeta was pissed, but it was too late.

The two giants lurched at each other with speed not often associated with men of their stature. Thresh started barreling Cato's side with his fists, each one knocking into Cato with a thunderous jolt that clattered his teeth together. Cato managed to parry one of the blows and twist to the side, but then Thresh swept with a powerful leg knocking Cato's legs out from under him.

Watching Cato fall to the ground was like witnessing a tree cut down. He hit the earth jarringly, but quickly regained his mindset and kicked up at Thresh's groin. Thresh dodged and then lunged atop Cato, pulling out from his back pocket in lightning speed a large hunter's knife.

"Jesus! Are you _crazy_?" Clove screamed in terror as Thresh swiped at Cato with the knife.

"Holy shit!" Glimmer screamed from the car and quickly scrambled out, digging into her purse for her cell phone. "I'm calling the cops!"

"Wait!" Marvel shouted at her and then he dove into the fight.

"No!" Peeta yelled, already terrified for Cato and not wanting Marvel to get in harms way. Things were moving too fast, they were cars speeding down a dark desert road, hurtling towards a deadly crash.

Marvel tackled Thresh from the side and they both flew off Cato, the knife just barely grazing his clavicle bone, a small dribble of blood stained his shirt.

"Marvel, don't!" Peeta tried to move forward, but Clove was clinging to him like a life vest. He couldn't move. He didn't know what to do.

"_What do we do_?" She begged. It was obvious she took full responsibility for it reaching this breaking point and the guilt in her eyes hurt Peeta to witness.

The knife fell from Thresh's hand as he and Marvel rolled across the gravel. Marvel brought an elbow down against Thresh's mid-back only to have his head connect with Thresh's skull when he threw it back with a powerful jerk. Marvel fell back, dazed and bloody-nosed. Then Thresh moved for the knife again. Before Peeta could try and rush him for it Cato scrambled on hands and knees to snatch the knife from Thresh's grasp.

It was just the two of them again and Thresh snarled fiercely. They danced about each other in circles—grimy and bruised like gladiators making a final stand. Thresh may have lost the upper hand with his weapon, but he still refused to cede ground and so he charged Cato. The attack was met head on.

"STOP THIS!" Clove screamed, but it was too late.

The charging goliath's were on a collision path that couldn't be averted. Their bodies slammed together with the booming clap of powerful muscles and flesh slapping together. Then just as suddenly they fell away from each other, Thresh collapsing to his knees—a look of disrupted rage on his face—and Cato standing tall above him. Peeta watched as everyone fell apart before him. His boyfriend with an arm held across his nose to staunch the bleeding was frozen in place watching with laser like intensity, Clove grasped at Peeta's shirt, her nails digging into his flesh as she released a ghostly moan, and Glimmer, still by Peeta's jeep, wailed uncontrollably.

It all happened in the blink of an eye, Thresh let out a terrible gurgling roar and then he collapsed face first into the gravel with one final gasp of breath before he was still. The blood soaked knife in Cato's hand shook, scattering little flecks of blood, before it fell from his grasp. Everything seemed to collapse inward on him, a black hole pulling in on itself, his shoulders slumped and rolled forward, his head fell to rest against his chest as tremors wracked his body.

The soundtrack of Glimmer's screams spurred Peeta into action as he tore Clove's hands from his side and shoved her towards Glimmer.

"Deal with her."

He couldn't bear to look at her in that moment and Clove wisely chose to heed his words, running over to hush Glimmer. Then Peeta moved forward and kicked the knife away from Cato, unwilling to touch it, but needing to put distance between him and the weapon. Cato swiveled around at the noise of Peeta's approach and his eyes locked on Peeta. They were so dark they were almost black. Peeta stumbled backwards, panicked, his eyes flickering from Cato to Thresh's dead body.

Cato was lost in his own mind and then suddenly a blonde boy with blue eyes was staring at him with a strange expression, it took him a moment to place it—apprehension and possibly fear. Cato hated to see that look on Peeta's face, especially directed at him. It tugged at something in his chest, like there was a string tied around his heart and connected to Peeta's emotions so that he felt with a sharp intensity every look directed at him. It had the power to lift him up and tear him down.

"Peeta? Did I do something wrong?"

The childlike quality of his voice softened Peeta just a little. Something was wrong here, which was especially apparent when Cato blanched at the sight of Thresh before collapsing in a heap next to his body.

"No… oh god, oh god," Cato began chanting.

Peeta didn't have time to piece anything together because suddenly Marvel was yelling and Glimmer was wailing like a siren again and the enormity of it all was too much. Peeta couldn't stop it. It all spun like a sickening vortex in his mind. It rose quickly, burning the back of his throat, before he was hunched over and puking. All the alcohol from the night purged from his system in foam and burning acid.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Marvel yelled while pacing by the truck and kicking at the gravel. "Okay, shit, we have to do something here."

"We have to call the cops!" Glimmer said, finally calming down wrapped up in her best friend's arms.

"Oh god."

Peeta took his phone out; ready to call when Marvel shouted with startling authority, "NO!"

He ripped the phone from Peeta's hand before he could do anything.

"Everyone, give me you phones—now! No one is calling the police."

"Oh god, oh god, oh god."

Marvel took everyone's phones except for Cato, who remained crumpled at Thresh's feet chanting like a traumatized child.

"You can't just make decisions like this for everyone!" Peeta challenged, getting up in Marvel's face. Everything was happening too fast, he had to try and slow it down.

"What do you want to do, call the cops and explain this?" He waved about at the dead body next to them. "We'll get arrested, accomplices for murder! Drunk driving. Take your pick. Mines on the former."

"Marvel's right." Clove stated, moving from Glimmer to join the argument. "We have to think of Cato, we can't say this was self-defense, he's the one that started this!"

"Oh god, oh god."

"And I have weed on me."

"What? You have weed on you?" Glimmer gaped at Marvel.

"Of course, I always do! Have you forgotten I_ deal_, Glim?" He asked, voice growing increasingly outraged. "If the cops come this is going to just continue to spiral. Think of our parents! Of our future, and college and what our friends will think! The community will vilify us. We're already thought of as the trouble makers, they're just waiting for a reason to hate us."

"Oh god, oh god, oh my god."

"For Christ sake! Would you shut the fuck up? I can't think like this!" Marvel screamed, leaning down to shake Cato who remained catatonic.

Peeta intercepted his boyfriend, flinging him from Cato and onto the gravel. "Leave him alone!"

The look of shock on Peeta's face matched that of his boyfriend. Marvel stood back up and turned from Peeta.

"I-I need time to think…" Marvel began to pace again.

"Someone needs to bury Peeta's vomit," Clove said.

Peeta didn't respond, he just moved to the spoilt spot on the ground and began kicking gravel and dirt atop it until it was completely buried. Meanwhile no one spoke. Cato was finally silent, Marvel pacing by the bluffs edge, Glimmer sniffling weakly. Just as the silence was getting too much, the salty air blowing up from the sea drying Peeta's throat, drying everything into a desert prison, Marvel spoke.

"I have an idea."

It was twisted. It was wrong. It couldn't possibly be their only choice. Peeta didn't want to give in to it, but it was just he and Glimmer. Clove was going along with anything, she'd already had sex with Thresh; all the pieces fit together for the story. She wanted to protect Cato. She wanted to protect herself, just like Marvel. It all made him sick to his stomach. If he had anything left he would vomit again. It felt like there was a fire burning inside him, hallowing him out until there was nothing left. He would never feel whole again, just the burnt shell of a man; not even that.

"I'm not going along with this, my dad's will help me, I didn't do anything wrong."

Marvel cocked his head and eyed Glimmer treacherously. Then he was in her face shaking her shoulders, screaming, "You'll fucking do it! God help me you will fucking do this!"

"Marvel! My god!" Peeta screamed.

Marvel turned back to look at his boyfriend and knew in that moment everything was lost. The ground had collapsed beneath them and swallowed them whole. All that was left was the falling sensation and darkness. Whenever they reached the other side nothing would be the same again.

"I'm sorry, but it has to be done." Marvel backed away from Glimmer and approached Clove, picking up the hunters knife on the way. "You ready?"

She nodded tersely. She was ready as she'd ever be. Marvel placed the sharp steel against her throat and held it there roughly until it drew blood. It leaked down her neck to stain the edges of her white dress. She hissed in pain, but remained steady.

"Struggle, we need it to look like you fought against the knife."

Peeta sneered in disgust and then threw his hands up, walking back to his car.

"I wont be part of this."

He would not partake in faking a rape so Clove could claim 'self-defense' in murder. It was beyond immoral. The inside of his car smelled of alcohol and made his head spin again. He left the door open to air it out. Marvel moved on to leave incriminating bruises across Clove's body. She held her head high and watched the moon move behind smoky clouds. Glimmer began to sob again as she too moved back to Peeta's car.

Eventually Cato came round and helped move Thresh's body so the positioning was in line with the story they had created. Then, only once everything was in place, all possible incriminating evidence swiped clean, all the details of the 'crime' had been hammered into their brains until they could recite it backwards did they leave Clove on the deserted coastal road.

When they reached the town limits sirens could be heard racing in the distance and everyone's breath hitched. They knew where it was all headed. Peeta ached deep in his chest. His heart was breaking with the knowledge that this was the end of them. He needed to escape. The people around him just made him ill. Their very presence was acidic. In a moment everything had changed. There was something very wrong with his group of friends. They'd all been baptized in blood, bound by an evil they could never undo and Peeta felt it deep in his bones a price would be paid for their sins.

* * *

"You're the killer!" I gasped.

The hunting knife, the dolls, the paranoid-schizophrenia, it all led to one terrible truth: my friend (and maybe something more, something new, something I wasn't ready to admit that had been growing between us and which I now felt disintegrating like charred parchment in my heart) was slowly coming unhinged for the past few years, starting with Thresh and now ending with us.

Cato flinched at the words like they could actually cut him, but he didn't stop moving forward. He was blocking the exit. I was trapped, my back up against the wall. I scanned from the corner of my eyes. There was no escape to the right, but a glance to the left revealed another door in the back corner.

Words were on the tip of Cato's tongue as he approached, knife still at his side, but I waited a beat. Then another. Then when he was close enough I lashed outwards with the kitchen knife and felt it catch against his right shoulder. It stuttered slicing through his flesh. He roared in pain and reared backwards. With the distraction I leapt backwards, jumping over his dead mother and sprinting towards the door, praying it would be unlocked.

The door opened easily. I swung around to slam it shut and caught a final glimpse of Cato charging, an intensely determined look on his face. I managed to bolt the door just as his body collided with the oak door on the other side. The thud reverberated through the marbled bathroom and I jumped backwards in fear.

"Peeta! Peeta, _please_!"

"How could you? How could you do _this_? To our friends?" _To me,_ I thought internally. "Stay the hell away from me! You're sick!" I shouted through the door.

Then I spun around and out the opposing side, which lead into some sort of study. Cato knew his house better than I and would be sure to find his way in here in mere seconds. So I just kept running, flinging my way through whatever door appeared before me next as I sprinted, desperate for freedom. Desperate to escape this hellish reality I'd entered.

I tried to listen if he was following, but all I could hear was the rush of a jet taking flight. There was too much blood pumping through my system and not enough oxygen was getting to my lungs. I burst through the next door and the sharp smell from earlier was back. I gagged when it accosted my nose and burned my eyes. The smell was so thick in the room I had entered it was like a humid fog, pressing against my skin and dampening my hair.

The room was long and narrow, lined on either side with shelves containing various supplies that I didn't have time to examine because my eyes were immediately drawn to the shapes slumped in a pile on the floor. I couldn't breath, too scared of what the sound might awaken. My fingers groped against the wall until I found the switch. I bit into my knuckle to keep from crying out as the room was lit up before me revealing a terrible visage that burned against the back of my eyelids. Even when I shut them to try and block out the terror I still saw the mutilated, decaying bodies of Katniss, Estee, and Finnick piled atop one another.

The sounds of footsteps spurred me on. He was close. There was another door at the opposite end of the narrow room, but I had to make my way around the bodies of my friends. I swallowed down my trepidation, much like trying to swallow shards of glass and then moved forward. I tried not to look at them, but as I stepped over the askew bodies I couldn't help but make contact with Finnick's eyes. They were no longer the beautiful sea green that had enraptured me in high school, but fogged over and murky, clearly dead.

Finally, on the other side of their bodies I raced to the door, ripping it open and rushing out with out pause. I was completely lost and turned about in Cato's mansion. It was just too fucking large. I turned to race down to my left when a pain exploded in the back of my head like the exit wound of a gunshot and then my vision turned fuzzy and upside down. My knees buckled and the last thing I saw was the black wood floor jumping up to meet my face.

**Another cliffhanger you say!? Yes, I can't help myself. Does anybody need a hug? Pretty dark stuff and it's only going downhill from there. The murders at the beginning were particularly gruesome to write on my part (did that translate into reading it?). I didn't like killing Glimmer off just as I was starting to understand her. How about you guys?**

**Next chapter will be the most explosive yet. I have so many things to answer and it's a little daunting trying to think how I'm going to fit it all in and make it seem natural. But I'm going to do my damned best. I hope you leave a review if you're still with me, I would like to think I still have a surprise or two up my sleeve! I love you all!**

**Until next time,**

**crobb07**


	14. Monster

**Okay here it is, the climax. The penultimate chapter of Blood Games. There's a shit ton that goes down in this chapter and I hope I successfully relayed all the complicated emotions behind it. I'm very satisfied with how it turned out. I'm just anxious now to see what you all think after this reading this. So hurry up, read it already!**

Monster

Throbbing. I could feel the pulse in the back of my head, sluggish and irritating as it beat out a discordant tune. It didn't take as long as it did back at the car to fight to consciousness, but it was still a slow and fraught process. I vaguely wondered how many concussions I had sustained over the course of the day, except I was quickly distracted by the fact that I couldn't see. My eyes were open, but everything was black. I blinked furiously to clear my vision, but the darkness remained. I couldn't have gone blind. Not from a hit to the head. I quickly realized I was blindfolded when my eyelashes flicked rapidly against the edges of a dark cloth stretched tight across my eyes. Dread began to prickle at the edge of my senses. No good could come from this.

Trying to bring a hand up to my face further revealed the disturbing situation I occupied. My hands were bound behind the back of the chair I sat in with rough twine, more was wrapped around my midsection and a quick tug of my legs confirmed they were restrained to each leg of the chair.

I thrashed against my restraints, twisting and flexing violently, hoping that something would give. The twine around my hands didn't feel particularly strong, but they sheer amount of it held nonetheless. My shoulders pinched with acute pain from their forced restraint behind my back. The twine cut in against my wrists like coarse wire, leaving a stinging sensation of rope burn. Panic was building at a steady pace in my chest like a train picking up speed. Soon I wouldn't be able to stop it, having run beyond my control. Sweat pricked across my brow and leaked down the side of my temple. I had the burning urge to wipe it off and scratch the itch it left in its wake. I wasn't sure what was worse, not being able to relieve the itch or not being able to see. It all blended together, brewed together in a fucked up blend of fear as panic wrestled away my control.

There was a loud panting sound. Frenzied deep breaths that took a moment to realize were not coming from my lungs. I might have been hyperventilating, but the sound was too far removed from my body and didn't match the pace of my chest. I trained my ears to listen closer and discovered a few more out of place sounds: muffled groans, the creak of a chair and the faint thump of a foot against the wood floor. Nothing made sense. I couldn't parse out the meanings of the different sounds, except for the breathing. It grew in decibel until it was like the person was practically breathing down my neck.

Something wet and cold pressed against the nape of my neck and I jolted against the chair, the legs screeching as they scraped against the floor. The tongue receded and a cool breath replaced it, drawing up the hairs along the wet patch.

"Please…" I begged quietly. A full body shiver raced down my spine to coil in the pit of my stomach, releasing a flutter of wings that gave off a weightless sensation. My head danced with queasiness and my vision remained frightfully black. With out the ability to see my imagination substituted nightmarish images of what was occurring behind me.

_Why was he doing this?_

"W-what do you want?" I asked with a more sturdy tone.

There was no reply. The puffs of air disappeared from my neck and I strained my hearing to try and follow the light pad of footsteps. They moved to the front of the chair and I jumped again, every muscle tensed and ready for flight, but cruelly inhibited as hands came to rest on my knees. They rubbed in soothing circles moving part way up my thigh before back down to my kneecap. I flexed every muscle in my arms against the twine, but only succeeded in further burning my wrists. The friction of the twine cut in to the flesh. My wrists were now wet with blood.

"Cato you don't have to do this, it's not t-to late to seek help…" I whispered, trying to contain the quiver of my voice so as not to come off frightened. Even if it was obvious, I hoped it might help get through to him somehow if he saw me as strong and unafraid. "I thought we had something…"

I thought reminding him of our connection might help break through to him. But still there was no response. One hand disappeared from my left knee while the other remained continuing its slow, methodical massaging.

"Please, I'll go with you. We can get you— AH…" I cut off with a petrified whimper. A muffled shout joined me.

Ice cold steel was abruptly placed against the exposed flesh of my arm. I could feel the small grooves in the serrated blade as they pricked lightly against my skin, grazing their way up and down my arm in a brushstroke pattern. Then the icy metal worked its way up my shoulder and danced across my cheekbone.

"S-stop this!" I shouted, trying to twist my head away from the blade, but the the restraints of the wooden chair inhibited me.

I couldn't see, I couldn't move! It was eating away at me on the inside, filling my veins with bubbling fear and drying my mouth, making it hard to form a sentence. I was fresh out of options. He wasn't listening to reason and I couldn't work off his reactions since I blindfolded, so I hissed out a lie.

"The cops are on their way! I called them before I got here, they'll be here any minute and you'll be fucked!"

The tip of the blade pricked against my cheek and I drew in a sharp breath, unwilling to show him any more fear. I jerked my head backwards and hopefully away from the weapon. But then the knife suddenly moved from my cheek and came to rest against my now exposed neck. I shuddered and screamed internally, begging for deliverance. Being unable to see, being unable to fight back, at the mercy of his sick and twisted mind was pure agony. The sharp blade scraped across the Adam's apple of my throat and I swallowed reflexively. How had Cato become like this? Why was he torturing me?

The blade, now warmed from my flesh, disappeared from my neck. The hand still on my right knee stopped its soothing circles and gripped my kneecap tight. I could hear the rustling of something struggling across from me, but it was suddenly blown from my ears as screams echoed across the room. A horrible, white-hot pain lit up just above my knee as the hunter's knife sliced its way into the flesh of my thigh slow and deliberate. I could feel every minute detail as it slashed through the layers of skin and worked into the muscle of my thigh, cutting and ripping me open deeper and deeper in a nauseating sawing motion. Hot blood poured out over my jeans giving off the sensation of wetting myself. The searing pain was relentless as it slowly pushed in further and further. It felt like every nerve in my body was crying out in pain, each one sharing in the feeling as the ragged edge of the blade shredded my flesh.

When would it stop? Was he going for a main artery? Would I bleed out in minutes? My screams never ceased. I figured my vision would have blacked out by now if I could still see.

Then out of the blue I heard a crash and screech as something charged from my right. There was another terrible shot of pain that jolted up my body then blissful respite as the knife finally fell from my thigh. It sounded like someone tackled Cato from the side because I could no longer feel his presence before me. There was a gruff growl and a high-pitched shrieking when something crashed and the sounds of more fighting filled my ears.

_What was happening_?

I quickly twisted and pulled, writhing and flexing my hands and wrists against the restraints endlessly. I bit my tongue to stave off the pain as more blood flowed. It felt like my wrists were on fire, I wasn't even sure if they were still bound, I could no longer feel anything. Blood was everywhere; I was overloaded with pain and slowly, mercifully numbed to it as I wrenched against the blood-slicked twine. I lived in a world of endless blood and suffering.

"How could you? HOW COULD _YOU_?" A strangled voice seethed. It sounded familiar, but warped by fury and fatigue.

By some miracle and brute strength I managed to stretch the layers of cord just enough that the slickness of the blood allowed my left hand to slip free. A sharp yelp erupted to my left. My free hand shook uncontrollably and I took a deep breath to steady it before I finished freeing its partner. I hesitated for a moment before removing my blindfold, afraid what horrors would be exposed to me, but I brushed aside the feeling and tore the cloth free.

Everything was revealed like a lens out of focus suddenly being corrected. At first it was just blurs and shaky blobs, then the shapes before me came into clear focus. Yet they still didn't make sense. The figure bound before me shouldn't be there. How could it be? I wracked my brain to make sense of it, to see if I had missed something earlier, but nothing jumped out at me.

Instead I was left to try and understand how Cato came to be bound and gagged in a chair directly across from me. He had a bloody welt on his forehead, blood leaking down into the corner of his eye; cobalt eyes that pleaded with me. He was trying to speak around the duct tape over his lips, but it all came across as nonsensical grunts.

Then I looked to my left and grew more baffled. A girl, bloodied and beat to all hell, was wrestling for control of the hunter's knife with none other than Marvel. The cast was still on his wrist. The bandage around his head had come undone and he seemed to be bleeding again. They rolled over a trampled shelving unit spewing books and broken artifacts. Then Marvel was atop the girl and her face was revealed to me.

"_Clove_? _Marvel_?" I shouted in surprise. What the hell was happening? Who was the one tormenting me just moments earlier if Cato was bound and gagged this whole time?

My startled exclamation seemed to hamper Marvel's next move as he spun to look back at me. That gave Clove the opportunity to gain control of the knife and lash at him, slicing him across the face. Marvel let out an aggravated cry and then smacked her down before reclaiming the knife.

I threw myself back to work against the restraints at my feet and mid-section with renewed vigor, knowing I had to get Cato and I out of this situation. My heart fluttered weakly at the possibility given to it by this twist of fate, but there was no time to dignify it with an acknowledgement, that could happen once we were safe, which didn't look likely at the moment.

When I was free I tried to stand only to have my wounded thigh bring me to my knees. At the same moment another figure burst onto the scene.

"FREEZE! Nobody—move!"

I froze, remaining down on one knee, gritting my teeth against the pain in my thigh as I watched wide-eyed. Haymitch drew his gun and took a steady aim at Marvel and with that move everything became a little clearer. If Cato wasn't the killer and Marvel was now holding Clove hostage at knifepoint in a Mexican standoff with Haymitch it could only mean one thing: Marvel was Doll Face.

"Marvel, no! You can't be!" I shouted in revulsion.

Marvel's silver eyes flicked over to me from behind Clove's blood-matted hair. They were filled with an unrecognizable fire, making the smoky grey of his eyes look troublingly callous. His cast bound hand was around her throat and the grip only tightened as she struggled in vain, the tip of the knife in his right hand digging in deeper to her jugular. She hissed in pain and my heart dropped to my stomach.

"Ahh, the shame of Johanna, her drunk of a father. Returned to clear your name?" Marvel sneered. "I must say I'm surprised you're here. But it's only a minor interruption."

Johanna's father? What was Marvel talking about? Her father was a dead beat that she never talked about, he didn't even live in Panem Beach—at least that's what she had said. None of this was adding up.

"My daughter may have warned me something was going on, so I took things into my own hands." Haymitch stated.

He quickly surveyed the scene before him with little flicks of his eyes, never turning his head away from his target, Marvel. He took in my wounded stance; Cato bound in the chair and the general disarray of the living room we were contained within. Then he was focused back on Marvel.

"I think that's what got you fired last time, _sheriff_." Marvel clucked, twisting the knife against Clove's neck so she moaned fearfully.

"Let the girl go." He said, gruff and authoritative.

Marvel guffawed with a vile sneer. My head was spinning. Everything had changed in a matter of seconds and I couldn't find my grounding.

"Not likely…"

Marvel leaned closer to speak in Clove's ear. She cringed as his lips ghosted across her earlobe. "Your tenacity never ceases to surprise me, letting the blame fall to you for Thresh's death and now this? I thought for sure that fall would finish you off."

"Eat shit mother fucker!" Clove spat.

She twisted in his arms, trying to ram an elbow in his side, but he just gripped her throat harder until she was choking. All the fight drained from her body.

"Do something!" I screamed at Haymitch. He flinched, but otherwise remained motionless as he stood off with Marvel.

Clove was slowly turning blue in the face, strangled little gasps slipping from her throat as Marvel suffocated the life from her. I vaguely registered Cato struggling against his restraints next to me. Marvel had used much more rope to tie him down than on me due to his large size. I debated trying to help him, but the idea was quickly dashed.

"Untie him and she dies!" Marvel barked. I scooted away from Cato, not wanting to risk Clove's life. Cato was safe for the moment in the chair.

"Kill her and you lose your bargaining chip," Haymitch tossed back, inching slowly towards Marvel. "Get behind me, Peeta."

"Stop him, please! He's killing her!" I begged.

I cautiously stood, careful to put more pressure on my sturdier leg and limped to position myself behind Haymitch. It put me in direct line of sight with Marvel and my stomach twisted violently when our eyes met. His crackled and swirled with a violent grey smoke and I finally realized the smokiness of his eyes actually worked to hide the evil that lurked behind them. How could he be doing this? It didn't make sense.

"That's the point." He grinned with malice, but his fingers gave an inch and Clove gulped down a massive, ragged breath.

The tightness in my chest loosened slightly. Clove was still alive and Haymitch was here, slowly inching towards Marvel and his hostage.

"Stay where you are, don't come any closer!" Marvel cried. "Put down your gun!"

He was completely unhinged as he motioned the knife towards Haymitch and then jabbed it in tighter against Clove's neck. She whimpered in pain. She was barely hanging on by a thread. She was caked in mud and blood, her face cut up, and blood seemed to be freshly oozing from a spot under her left breast. She needed help sooner rather than later. She had risked her life to come and save me, I needed to do something. I could see Cato struggling against his restraints. His muscles rippled with the movements fluidly on and off as he flexed and tugged, then stopped before starting over, working up a steady rhythm that would hopefully break his bondages.

"I'll put mine down if you do the same. We can just talk. Let Cato go so he can take Peeta and Clove to the hospital and we'll have a little chat. How's that sound?" Haymitch talked in his best fatherly voice, raising both hands above his head to signal his compliance with Marvel's demands. "We can do this peacefully."

Marvel grinned wide and then suddenly Clove was thrown forward with a scream. Haymitch caught her in both arms off kilter. Before he had time to regain his footing or retaliate Marvel was tackling the both of them and they fell to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. I dove out of their way and gasped in pain as I landed on my injured thigh.

Marvel sucker punched Haymitch and knocked him sprawled on his back. Clove tried to fight her way out from between them and I moved to help pull her out of the way. I couldn't see where the gun had gone, but both the men were now struggling for control over the knife.

"We have to get out of here and get help!" She tried to stand, but we were both in terrible shape and she fell back against my shoulder.

"Together!" I said and we both leaned to support each other as we worked to get to our feet.

Once on our feet I turned, wanting to help Haymitch when I saw the knife skid along the surface of the floor to rest at the foot of a plush ottoman on the other side of the men from me. Marvel shoved free of Haymitch and raced for it, but Haymitch wasn't going to let him get it that easy. He lunged at him, but then Marvel pivoted and moved lithely to the right where he skidded on his stomach across the wood to grip something under the couch.

Just as Haymitch managed to stand Marvel swiveled to face him on the floor, raised the gun and fired. Two loud cracks exploded in the room and Haymitch jolted backwards to crumple to the ground, blood seeping out his back on the wood around him. I couldn't tell if he was dead or unconscious, but either way the situation was disastrous.

Clove screamed in horror. I twisted and pushed her recklessly towards the door.

"Go, get help!"

Another crack reverberated around the room and I flinched. Had I been shot? I froze for a moment taking stock of my body when I saw Clove—right at the archway—fall to the ground, dead. Blood spattered the wall across the hall and a small bullet hole marred the perfect pale flesh of her face.

"Oh Jesus, no, no!" I spun around to face my tormenter with a terrible fury boiling in the pit of my stomach like a cancer that had quickly metastasized and tainted the rest of my body. The only feelings I had left for Marvel were warped with hate and fear. "You monster!"

Cato raged and fought in the confines of his chair. His nostrils flared as it looked like he was trying to get enough air into his system as he struggled against the rising panic. Every muscle in his body was strained and rigid as he tore at his restraints, but it was all for naught.

I wanted to cry for the loss of another close friend, but was in little position to grieve at the moment. Marvel held the gun with his right hand at a slight angle and trained right at my heart. I swallowed hard, finally learning what it meant to stare down the barrel of a gun. It was a disturbing sensation being able to see the little black hole at the tip of the gun where such a small, innocuous looking piece of metal could shoot from in milliseconds and tear through my flesh faster than I could blink.

"Do not move," He intoned.

Then he moved over past Haymitch to pick up his knife and slip it in the back pocket of his jeans. I labored to control my erratic breathing as my head swam. This couldn't be reality, it was too sick and twisted, yet it was too filled with real pain and suffering to be anything but real.

"_Why_?" I whispered hoarsely.

"You're gonna have to speak up, babe."

Marvel was completely deranged. He raked his free hand through his hair, which seemed dulled from their normal golden brown, making it stand on end and highlighted with blood. He unraveled the bandage around his head and held the gauze against the cut to his face Clove left and sighed in relief. She had marked him from the side of his nose and down across his cheek at an angle. Everything about him was harsher now, especially the wild look in his eyes.

"Why! Why would you do this to us? Your friends!" I sobbed out.

"Why? Why you ask! Ha!" Marvel mocked in a child's voice then laughed like he'd just cracked the best joke. Except for the first time I could see that the smile that spread across his face was nothing more than plastic. It was all for show.

Did he ever really feel anything?

"It was all for you, babe. My precious, beloved, _my _Peeta, don't you get that? Everything's been for you!" Marvel said.

His eyes were so wide I thought they might pop out of their sockets; the whites of his eye laced with red hateful veins. The pistol trembled in his hands as he talked. I stumbled back a step and hit the wall. I sighed in silent relief as some of the pressure was relieved from my injured thigh. Marvel cocked his head, watching me closely before pulling himself back under control.

"I don't understand," I broached the silence, prodding him for more of an answer, hoping that if I got him talking Cato might be able to work his way free and we could find a way out of this alive.

"Of course you don't. You have no idea what I've done for you… and Peeta?" He paused, holding contact with my eyes, before speaking slow and meticulous. "I've done so much."

I gulped at the implication of his words. They were menacing and forebode only ugly things. My skin felt tight like it was now the thing restraining me. I didn't want to know. There was nowhere to go.

"I did it to make things right, Peeta. So we could be together again with out all of these fucking painful reminders of graduation night. To exorcise our demons!"

"It seems to me you're the demon," I threw back, just as unhinged. "Maybe we should have been the ones to exorcise you from our lives long ago."

Suddenly Marvel flew forward, dropping the gauze from his face. I was now boxed in against the wall, gun pressing up against the bottom of my chin. My head ached with the strain of my jaw as I clenched it shut trying to ward off the fear that spiked through my body.

"You don't get it, do you?" Marvel roared. Spittle flew from the edges of his mouth. I couldn't breath. He was too close. The gun drew all the air from my lungs. "It all would have been fine if you hadn't fucked it up! I planned so much. The post cards to lure everyone back to town and set up a motive for our friend's psychotic break—well used to be a friend until he fucked what's mine."

The gun moved from beneath my chin to caress from my temple down to my jaw and back. I swallowed down a tattered breath, eyes averted from Marvel's, unable to stomach looking at him so close. It was like trying to stare into the sun, it only burned and blinded you after too long the more you tried to figure it out.

"You want to know what I did for you? To draw you back?" Marvel whispered, replacing the gun with the back of his hand to press against the flesh of my cheek. His breath came in sharp spurts and there might have been a groan of anticipation on the tip of his tongue. The knots in my stomach twisted tighter at his words. They might never be undone now. He leaned in to nibble against the bottom of my earlobe before husking out, "I murdered that wretched excuse of a mother for you."

I gasped. My eyes welled up with inexplicable tears as my mind struggled to discredit him.

"You're lying," I groaned out as Marvel pulled away to take in my whole expression. I barely managed to keep myself standing against the wall now that he wasn't pressing in against me.

His eyes danced across my face, violating me, taking in my emotions and getting off on them like a fucking rapist might get off on the power trip he got from assaulting someone.

"I don't believe you! It was an overdose, she was addicted to pills!" The rage was back and before I could think my good knee reflexively bent upwards and nailed him right in the balls.

He growled and launched backwards from me, gun waving about menacingly and keeping me glued to the wall.

"Fuckin' hell!" He yelled. "What is with people today and the crotch shots?"

Still hunched over, he looked up at me with a wicked sneer.

"It's not the first time, you know? That I've gotten rid of her…" He pressed on reverently. "I reported the bitch back in 5th grade when she was abusing you. She thought she had you trained so well, but I saw the signs. I've been watching you my whole life, Peeta. I know when you're hurting. And no one's aloud to touch you but _me_."

He dug around in his pocket for something. I couldn't see what was in his fist until he flung it in the air and I caught it against my chest. The tears in my eyes burned fiercer when the inconceivable truth was laid bare before me. He really killed her. He did it. Just like he murdered Clove and Johanna and everyone else.

"It was easy, swapping her favorite pills with a higher dosage. Then when she was unconscious just pushing a fistful more down her throat to make sure the trick was done." Marvel laughed fondly over the memory.

I clutched my mother's favorite Zippo lighter with the snowy black stallion on it between my fingers until they were numb. Until everything was numb, until I could no longer feel the tears that betrayed my eyes and spilled over my cheeks, until I could no longer feel the break in my nose or the deep wound to my thigh.

The truth was too much. It was like I was falling and I could only pray for the mercy of swift death when I hit the ground. It was better when it was Cato. When it could be explained away by some paranoid schizophrenic break with reality, because otherwise I was the cause. I was the common denominator in everyone's death and that was too much of a burden to carry. I was being chained to cement blocks and tossed in the river. There was no hope.

Marvel, still gripping his crotch, looked at me with something bordering on sympathy, but for a sociopath like him that was wholly unlikely. I pocketed the lighter unable to touch it a moment longer.

"I got rid of her for you. To free you from the specter of her pain that always haunted you just beneath the surface. Just like I got rid of everyone else associated with graduation night and Thresh's death. So that you could feel happiness again and that we could be together, just us against the world!" Marvel was practically pleading with me to understand before a switch flipped and he remembered something.

"But then you had to go and fuck it all up. Go and destroy all my carefully laid plans and work." Marvel prattled on, slowly working himself to frenzy, the smoke of his grey eyes revealing a burning ember of hate. "You just had to break out of your restraints before I said you could. You just had to sleep with Cato. You couldn't help yourself, could you? You never can! You lack inhibition or forethought! Maybe you really are a slut at heart. I might forgive that, but Cato… not so much."

The pistol twitched in his hands before he stood up straight. Then he turned away from me and pointed the gun at Cato, pulling the trigger. The shot rang out like a deafening explosion followed by the shattering of a vase behind Cato. The gag in Cato's mouth muffled his startled cry, but the expression on his face was etched with deep lines of bitter pain as his feet went rigid and pushed off the ground. His chair tipped backwards. Crimson blood spread like watercolor over paper across the blue canvas of his shirt.

"CATO!" I screamed in horror.

I pushed off from the wall and tried to run to him, but was hobbled by my injured leg. Marvel swiftly swung the gun back around to point at me and froze me in place.

"Oh shut up, I haven't killed him… yet." Marvel's grin slashed across his face like a knife wound in anticipatory glee.

A closer inspection revealed it might be true. Cato was shot in the shoulder. He wasn't likely to bleed out too fast. But then really what did I know. The only knowledge I had of guns and the wounds they inflicted were what I witnessed through pop culture. Maybe the hero really did bleed out faster in real life than the movies. I needed to draw Marvel's attention back to me. Marvel was sure to aim for the heart next time… or head.

"W-what about F-Finnick?" I stuttered out. It was better than the sob that I almost choked on before I spoke. "He had nothing to do w-with any of this nor Rue!"

Marvel shook his head incredulously.

"Have you not been listening Peeta? You are _mine_. I've protected you since elementary school. You were mine then just as you are now, you just didn't know it yet. When Finnick came onto you junior year I had to teach him a lesson. You can't just let people touch things that aren't theirs. There are rules! We live in a civilized fucking society!" Marvel shouted, the wild look back in his eyes, before he calmed down with a deep breath and continued. "So I made sure to teach him a lesson, just scare him a little. And it worked. It's not my fault he overreacted like a bitch and transferred schools the next week. But when I heard you mention him again I couldn't let his infraction slide, we had a _deal_!"

"You are crazy," I whispered. It was finally settling in, the Marvel I had known was only a carefully constructed veneer to hide the real man behind the mask: a hollow shell of a human lacking in any capability to feel real emotion.

Blood was pooling in the foot of my right shoe from the deep cut to my leg. I wondered how much blood I'd already lost. Would I eventually just lose consciousness? What would happen to us then?

"As for Rue," Marvel continued as if I had not spoken. "Sadly she suffered from that overused idiom wrong place, wrong time. Her post card, along with the others, was supposed to make it look like Cato's guilty conscience caused him to snap."

Marvel laughed seeming particularly pleased with his work.

"So what, you were just going to frame your best friend and kill all your other friends? And you thought you could get away with it?" It was my turn to laugh harshly. It was absurd. "You are the crazy one. _You_ are a monster."

"Well if things hadn't gone to shit just now, yes I would have got away with it. I would have looked like the hero who came in and saved you from Cato's sick games of torture and retribution. And I really have you to thank for making this possible. If you hadn't pushed me back in senior year to look in on Cato I never would have discovered his mother's illness and her freakish obsession with dolls or that Cato shared her diagnosis.

When looking for a person to pin this on it was obvious whom to choose. Clove was a close second though, poor girl, such a tormented soul. No one would be surprised she lost it; after all she did already 'kill' someone. She just couldn't provide an alternative to the theatricality the doll mask gave. I grew rather fond of Doll Face."

Suddenly Marvel's demeanor changed. He bounced on the heels of his foot and seemed giddy over the prospect of something. It was likely to be horrifying. I braced myself against the wall in preparation. Marvel began backing up, eyes and gun still trained on me. My eyes swept over to check on Cato bleeding out in his tipped over chair, but my attention was quickly drawn back to Marvel as he spoke again.

"But I've been sidetracked. This was all for you, until you whored it up with him," He flicked the pistol towards Cato blithely. "That changed things a little. When I went for my run last night I stopped by to check on you and witnessed your filthy encounter. I couldn't just let you keep defying me, so I course corrected." Marvel's smile grew bigger with each word. "You really do need to make up your mind, Peeta. You're quite lucky the men in your life have been waiting around so patiently for you to decide, but you can't have it all. You think you want me, Gale or Finnick, back to me again, then Cato? It's ridiculous!"

Marvel pounded his boot against the ground in anger. The smile was suddenly gone.

"You push us all away, but then expect us to still be there when you want like servants at your beck and call. Well that's over now. I think it's time to finally choose…" Marvel trailed off with a wicked smirk.

He had backed up all the way to the opposing side of the room where he wrenched open the door to a closet. I wondered if this was my opportunity to jump into action, but then he was dragging out a large form across the floor and the world stopped spinning. The person's hands were bound behind his back, his feet tied together with a thick rope and duct tape across his mouth. It was Gale.

All the blood drained from my face. I was going to pass out. It was too much. My knotted stomach tried to force up its contents, but there was nothing in them. Fingernails cut into the palms of my clenched fists, the toxic anger was back and there was no outlet.

"Let him go, please!" I begged through clenched teeth. My eyes pleaded with his, trying to cut through the smoke and find his humanity. "I'll go with you, we can run off, disappear. Anything you want. I'm yours. Just let Gale go!"

Gale's soft blue eyes looked small and tired, ringed with dark circles, but they burned bright with an anxious fire as he took in his new surroundings. His left eye was swollen and purple, his hair disheveled. Crusted blood matted his hair in clumps above his right ear. It was jolting to see the strong and handsome man that had become my voice of reason over the past year broken down and beaten. He was a tall and athletic guy, but he looked so small and fragile now. How long had Marvel had him hostage? Why hadn't I noticed sooner? Fuck this was my fault. If only I hadn't been so preoccupied, if I had answered when he called instead of moping around I could have possibly saved him from being at the hands of a mad man.

"It's too late for that now. You can't take back what you did nor can I. So now it's time to choose Peeta. Who do you want? The doting all American boy Gale? Or the damaged bad boy Cato?" Marvel tugged on Gale's shoulder until he was up on his knees. Marvel held him tight from behind, the gun ghosting along his shoulder and resting pointed at his neck.

"I'm not playing this! Even if I choose you'll still kill them both!" I cried foul. It was unbelievably cruel to make their last moments about whom I would rather be with and I wasn't going to play along. "Just let him go, please, he has nothing to do with this."

"Ha! You fool yourself Peeta, this is about you and Gale is just as much a part of this as anyone else. But you are right, no one is leaving this house today unless it's in a body bag."

My pulse skyrocketed as the panic and adrenaline in me peaked and mixed in a combustible cocktail that would either save us or cause my heart to give out.

"Gale I—" I broke off, unable to find the words that could make this better. He didn't deserve this. No one did, but him least of all. I had to save him. He shook his head like he was trying to communicate to me not to do anything stupid. Even now he was still worrying about me.

"It's always been about you Peeta," Marvel whispered like it was a prayer.

His eyes glossed over with memories of things I never wanted to know. Then suddenly his eyes hardened and focused on me with such intensity that it was like being shot with a laser.

"What's that old saying? It's cliché, but I find it quite apt…" He mulled it over, rolling it around on his tongue. Gale struggled below him, but Marvel just gripped him tighter and pressed the gun closer. "Oh, yes. Ha! If I can't have you, then no one will!" Marvel threw his head back with a laugh as his free hand moved to his back pocket.

Then in the span of a second Marvel maneuvered his deft hand in an agile flash so that the steel blade of the hunter's knife cut out across Gale's throat. The steel slit across Gale's throat, splitting it open and pouring out hot red blood that quickly overflowed, running down his neck and over his chest.

"NOO!" I screamed in terrible agony like I too had just been slit open.

The rage boiled over and I could no longer remain stagnant. I was moribund and I wouldn't fucking accept it. So I charged Marvel regardless of the fact that I was defenseless, that he had both a knife and gun, and that my thigh screamed in ruthless electric pain every time I pounded against the floor.

Gale slumped to the side, bleeding out and convulsing as I slammed right into Marvel's midsection, a look of suspended disbelief playing out across his face. He flew backwards and I clung atop him, ripping into him when we hit the ground with everything I had left. I beat what ever I could reach and then some.

"You fucker! You psycho! You murderer!" I screamed while wailing against his head with both fists.

The gun was knocked from his grasp and sent sprawling somewhere out of site, but I didn't go for it. I was too blinded by my hate. All I could see was Gale's throat being slit, the look of terror and regret in his eyes followed by debilitating pain.

"You thought killing all my friends would make it right? Make me forget the pain and disgust I feel over Thresh's death? THAT I'D LOVE YOU AGAIN?" I shouted like a man at the end of his rope. There really was nothing left to lose as I clawed at Marvel's face, punched into his stomach and spit at him with all the hate and venom brewed in my stomach. "I could never love you! All you've done is make everything worse you sick, sick fuck! I'll NEVER be yours!"

A searing pain flared across my back. Marvel still had the knife and managed to slice it across the back of my right shoulder blade. I cried out in pain and then was suddenly launched backwards as Marvel got a leg up and kicked me off him. I landed on my back hard. The air knocked from my lungs and my head dizzy from the impact. I had received too many head injuries in the past few hours and along with the blood loss it was beginning to take its toll. The room refused to balance itself instead dancing from side-to-side like a pendulum.

I tried to pull myself back up, but the pain in my thigh and the dizzying turn of the room toppled me back over to my side. I could see Marvel making his way towards me—knife glinting sharp steel and blood in his clenched fist. I knew whom it was meant for; the sharp point of the blade had one final victim before its work was complete, one final victim to rip and tear the flesh from, to shred my internal organs and leave me as nothing more than a bloody carcass.

Turning onto my hands and knees I fumbled to make my way across the floor and away from Marvel's approach.

"Ah!"

A powerful kick to my injured leg forced me sprawling on my stomach. A heavy boot came to rest on my lower back and I fought desperately for air.

"It's time to end this. I really do wish it hadn't come to this, but there's no other way now," Marvel said with slight resignation like his dinner plans had been unexpectedly canceled on him and now he had to make new ones. It was an inconvenience, a disappointment maybe, but nothing he wouldn't get over.

He used the tip of his foot to flip me over onto my back and I tried to take a swing at him, but missed and got a boot to the face for my trouble. My nose began bleeding again. I could taste the saltiness of blood in my mouth. But I felt no pain. I couldn't feel anything anymore.

Marvel lifted the jagged knife in his hand and it was a small comfort to know that at least it would all be over soon. All the despair and self-loathing of the last year finally put to an end. Karma got hers in the end. The price of our evil deeds at last paid.

Marvel brought the knife down with both hands wrapped around the handle for a powerful stab. I closed my eyes and accepted the fate. When I heard a ferocious roar and the flesh-tearing pain never exploded in my chest, or gut, or wherever he was aiming, I opened my eyes.

Cato was free from the restraints and fighting Marvel. If Cato were at full strength then hands down it would be a no contest, but he wasn't. Marvel was and he fought dirty. They struggled with both hands for control of the knife, but Cato's gun shot wound to the shoulder seemed to be greatly inhibiting his strength.

"How precious. Trying to redeem yourself in the eyes of Peeta are we?" Marvel goaded.

Cato responded with a snarl and a renewed drive to tear the knife from Marvel's grip. He was atop Marvel and began repeatedly slamming him against the hardwood floor. I could feel the reverberations across the floorboards to where I was laying. Marvel gave some slack to his hand holding the knife, which surprised Cato and he tugged back too far with no opposing force causing him to lose balance. Then Marvel reared up and slammed his forehead into Cato's. He howled and fell off of Marvel. He pushed forward and was now on top of Cato.

With their positions reversed the situation was looking dire for Cato. I had regained some of my balance and sat up, scanning the room for a Hail Mary. It was worthless. I was worthless. I couldn't save anyone. Cato's scream of agony jolted me back to reality. Marvel was digging his thumb into the injury on Cato's shoulder. Cato's other hand relented in the battle for the knife and Marvel was now in full possession of the large blade. It was now or never. I found our saving grace and dove across the floor, quickly running out of time. The only sounds I could hear were my heartbeat and Cato. Everything was focused around him.

Marvel continued to twist his finger in Cato's wound. The pain must have been incapacitating because all Cato could do was let loose guttural cries and writhe beneath Marvel as he positioned the blade over Cato's heart.

"It's time we said goodbye, _friend_." He sneered.

Then he pulled up over Cato's body and pressed down with all the weight of his body behind the movement. The tip of the blade penetrated Cato's pectoral muscle just above his heart when a single shot rang out in the room and Marvel was knocked clean off of Cato and back onto his knees. The knife clattered to the floor next to Cato and I rose to my feet, gun pointed at Marvel's chest.

"Goodbye, friend."

The look of shock and betrayal in Marvel's grey eyes were the final straw. He had no right to feel those things. He only had a right to agony and death. I pulled the trigger again overriding my personal convictions on the usage of guns. The jerk of the pistol firing shook my arm, but I held it strong and steady for the third and fourth fire, unloading the whole round in Marvel's chest and not regretting a moment of it as each bullet pierced his flesh with a burst of red and a startled cry.

I continued pulling the trigger even when the empty click of the cartridge was the only sound the gun made. Then I watched the last moments of life pass through Marvel's eyes before he collapsed backwards with one final broken word:

"Peet—a."

Every emotion, every sense I had was manifested in the gun and its spray of bullets. It was much lighter than when I had picked it up and suddenly the significance of my actions hit me like a speeding truck. The gun fell from my hands, the emotional weight of it too much to hold. My hands burned with subsiding rage and the blowback from the pistol. I had been hollowed out, everything I had everything I was expelled from my body in the bullets fired. In it's wake I was slowly filling with the heaviness of almost a dozen deaths. Each one its own sharp and distinct pain that weighed down my soul and compressed my heart.

Blood and bodies littered the room like the set of some crime procedural. The vapor of gunpowder hung loose in the air tinged with blood and sweat.

Cato gradually pushed upright and watched me. Worry and sadness warred for dominance on his strong face.

"Peeta it's—" He dropped off when a small gurgling sound interrupted the still of the room.

"Gale!" I gasped and flew to his side.

The gash to my thigh throbbed as I stretched it moving quickly. I couldn't put another second of pressure on it and fell to the ground right beside Gale in a harsh cry. Except it wasn't because of my burning pain. It was for Gale.

"It's okay, shh, shh, I've got you. Don't move." I cooed as I sat upright and pulled his head into my lap. My hands trembled worse than an addict suffering withdrawals because this was Gale. Sweet, caring Gale and he didn't deserve this.

"I've got you, I'm here now, stay with me." I pleaded.

One hand worked to undo the bindings on his hands the other pressed against Gale's throat, trying to contain the bleeding but there was so much. It flowed fast and hot over my fingers despite my best efforts, seeping through the cracks and reminding me just how inept I was. Now matter how much I tried, I would always lose.

Gale looked up at me. He seemed to be trying to communicate something through his eyes, but it was hard to tell. Everything was fuzzy with the water welling in my eyes. I shook my head. The rope slipped from his wrists and I quickly brought the other hand to press atop the one I had against his throat.

"No, you're going to be fine. Don't you try and tell me goodbye." I whipped my head towards Cato and cried, "Call an ambulance, police, something!"

He was already on it, over by Haymitch's body and pulling from one of his pockets a cell phone. He quickly dialed and began talking in a strained voice to the 9-1-1 operator.

"They're on their way. Five minutes." Cato said after hanging up. I nodded in confirmation, but never broke contact with Gale's eyes.

"Gale, I'm so sorry. I had no idea—I never thought—" I broke off.

What could I say? There was nothing that would make this right. The blood kept pouring, slow and steady now, over my palms. A few stray tears splashed down on Gale's face. I sniffled and pulled a hand away to wipe at my eyes, vaguely aware I was smearing his blood across my face, but unable to muster the effort to care.

I carefully repositioned his head, hoping if I could just make him more comfortable maybe he could hang on a little bit longer. I stroked his hair with my free hand while the other stayed compressed tight to the slit in Gale's throat. I still trembled every few seconds followed by cursing as my fingers slipped against his blood to reapply the pressure.

One of Gale's hands came to rest against my hand at his throat. I bit off a moan as he weakly wrapped his fingers around mine and tugged.

"No…" I groaned and shook my head. My eyes pleaded desperately with his. "No, you can't. Not you too. They'll be here soon. C'mon you can make it. Just hang on a little longer…"

I was barely speaking in a whisper. It hurt to talk. It hurt expending any amount of energy. I couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Gale. He tugged at my hand once more; it was like the pull of a baby's fist, so small and delicate and nothing at all like the man the action belonged too. His head shook just the slightest amount and his weak eyes asked me to do something I wasn't sure I could do.

"Where is the ambulance?" I screamed at Cato. But I didn't get a response nor did I look for one as Gale's pulse faded against my hand and the grip of his fingers loosened gradually.

"Fuck… okay, Gale, okay. For you I'll let go." I whispered and pulled my hand away from his throat, replacing it instead with a tighter grip on his proffered hand.

Then I watched and waited, there as a guide for him as he slowly passed from my world. The back of my throat burned with acid and tasted like rot. I leaned down, sweeping aside his hair and gently pressing a kiss against Gale's forehead with a reverently whispered I love you. He closed his eyes and effused contentment. Then I pressed forward, hunching over his head and pressing my split lips against his for a delicate and lingering kiss. I felt the slightest of pressure push back against mine, a parting gift, before it all drained away and I let the sobs I had been holding back pour out of me.

He was gone.

I was gone.

Everyone was gone.

What was left?

Marvel had destroyed everything. All in the name of love. That couldn't be though, because a monster like him couldn't know what love is. Not if this was what he thought it looked like.

A large hand covered my shoulder and gripped. I pulled up from Gale's head to look into Cato's cobalt eyes and felt a glimmer of hope, but it was quickly drowned, flooded by the deluge of pain and grief and hell experienced in the last few hours. I had to turn away because the hope still burned in his eyes albeit it mingled with equal parts confusion, fear and grief.

"Haymitch is still breathing, he's hanging on. I can hear the sirens, they're almost here." His voice was coarse, strained with pent up emotion.

He was right. If I listened close enough I could hear the incessant wail of the police siren or maybe it was the ambulance. But what did it matter? They were too late, as usual.

"And Clove?" I asked. It was pointless, I saw where Marvel shot her, but I think I needed it confirmed for me by someone else. I looked back to Cato and he shook his head, no, of course no.

I turn away from Cato and shrugged off his hand tugging Gale's body up closer to cradle between my legs as I gave myself over to emotion. There was nothing left to be said so I just sat in a puddle of blood, both mine and Gale's, and wept for everything that was lost in the past week.

My mother.

Finnick and Rue.

Katniss and Estee.

Johanna and Clove.

Even Marvel.

**So I just have to know, did I surprise you? I know along the way some of you guessed Marvel might be involved, but I hope that at least it was a satisfying reveal? And that mean's Cato's not the killer so there might still be hope for you Peeto fans yet. But it was a pretty dark, tragic installment, no? It came out of me pretty quick compared to the last two chapters, which surprised me, but I guess that means all my careful planning paid off then since it was so easy to write. **

**I also want to say if you still have any lingering questions after this chapter, feel free to ask them in the reviews and I will answer them for you, unless it's included in the next chapter. I tried to explain everything, but sometimes, some things just can't be told with out seeming like unnecessarily expository and ruining the tension.**

**Anyways please leave a review and let me know what you think! It's what you've been waiting for so patiently through out this whole story, answers! Did you get them? Are you sad (about Gale or Clove)? I might have been on the verge of crying while I wrote. I can't believe I went through with it. He was the hardest. We've got one more chapter left. Then maybe an epilogue, I just have to see how this last chapter pans out to see if I should do it. I have something planned, but I wanna wait and see if it's necessary.**

**So review please and thank you!**

**~crobb07**


	15. To Love Is To Lie Redux

**The final chapter is here and it's a monster coming in at almost 11,000 words. I hope it's an ending that makes you feel something, I'm not picky on the emotion, just that you had a reaction to this story. So please read it and leave me a little review (or critique!) and I'll do little happy dances in my room in your honor. And for all of you who have already left reviews in the past, well you know how much you rock and I made it to this last chapter all because of you guys!**

To Love Is To Lie Redux

Everything passed by in a haze of indifference. It settled like the heady burning smoke of incense, strong and overwhelming, nothing was left to feel.

Paramedics and police and stretchers and body bags flashed in and out of my line of sight. Visions of blood and echoes of the crack of gunfire mixed in with reality and continued the surreal nightmare I was living.

By the time I was being loaded in the ambulance I gripped the oxygen mask tight over my face and laid back on the stretcher content to let the world fade away as the paramedics rushed about. Once the morphine hit I gave up my grip on the universe. They mentioned something about needing vascular surgery, whatever that meant. There would probably need to be blood transfusions and a large regimen of antibiotics was definitely in store, but I shut down and floated off on the bathwater-warm river of morphine.

My father was called and quite hysterical on the phone. I couldn't handle that either and so I passed it to the nearest officer on watch who looked bewildered and caught off guard. Everyone looked slightly ill and off in the hazy mist of my drugged apathy. Nothing of this magnitude had ever occurred in our cozy little beach town. The worst they'd probably ever witnessed was the scene of a drunk driving accident, definitely no premeditated murder sprees of which I found myself at the center.

Surgery passed in a blur, the doctors explanations and diagnosis tumbled in one ear and out the other. All I could focus on was the mole above his lip. What did I care? Apparently I would live.

The nurses kept trading shifts in my room, but I barely paid attention to them. I guess they were there to make sure I didn't fall asleep with my concussion, but there was no chance of that happening. I saw Marvel in every face that passed my door. I heard Gale's last breath in every whispered conversation. Small town gossip would spread the events of tonight like a napalm bomb. It would soon be inescapable.

Sleep was never going to come, at least not until I tried to run from the room. A pain ripped up the middle of my leg and brought me to my knees with a scream along with the IV ripping from the flesh of my arm. Warmth spread down my kneecap like I had wet myself. The stitches in my leg had burst, but I couldn't stay.

A nurse extended a hand to help, another crowding an arm over my shoulder and I shoved at them. Incoherent screams slipped from my lips. I didn't need there help. I couldn't take it. A man was approaching, something sharp glinting in his hands. He was going to finish what Marvel started. I struggled like an animal caught in a snare facing down death. This couldn't be happening again. Pain flared up my backside and more warmth flooded down my back. More stitches on my back must have ripped open during my struggling. I continued to fight back until the man with the sharp object jabbed me in the arm. Then warm, cottony clouds invaded my brain and my body was bogged down with an indolent weight.

* * *

A sedated sleep was almost like no sleep at all because suddenly I was awake with no memory of sleeping and no satisfied feeling of refreshment. My head throbbed with a dull ache beneath the drugs and dragged me from unconsciousness.

"Peeta."

My eyes, heavy lidded and rebellious, swayed and refused to come to focus on Sheriff Coin's face. I almost asked why she was here, but the buzz in my head reminded me I didn't care.

"Listen, I'm—" Coin looked like she'd swallowed a bumblebee, her butch features clearly framed in distaste. She cleared her throat and continued. "We should have done more, I know, and this is going to be tough, but I need a statement. Cato's not what we'd call a reliable witness at the moment…"

"That's funny. It sounded like you're trying to apologize, but it seemed to be missing some important words like _I'm sorry_. Or we turned our backs on you. We failed you. Something more like that."

I don't know where the words came from. They didn't really sound like me. I didn't remember moving my lips or thinking the words, but there they were. Coin at least had the acumen to look properly rebuked. I rolled over and turned my back to her in the small hospital bed.

That's when she dropped the little nugget that Glimmer was also dead. I figured, but I hadn't known for sure. Learning of her death by then was like learning on the nightly news about another awful urban crime, it mattered, but it wasn't anything new or shocking, just par for the course. Was I really so used to death that I could treat it so cavalierly?

"Get out…" I growled in warning.

"I'm sorry to have to be telling you this—"

I laughed. Now she said sorry.

"But there are ten dead bodies, most of them prominent members of our community and the Mayor, parents, concerned citizens are going to need answers, soon."

"I said get out. Get out, _get out_, GET OUT!" I bellowed like a lunatic. I smacked the breakfast tray from the end of the table, I grabbed anything that was near, a cup of water or clipboard, and started throwing them until Coin backed out of the room hands raised in a peace offering and another man in scrubs rushed in to dope me. Indifference penetrated every corner of my body and I slumped over in bed with a queasy sigh.

* * *

Suddenly it's another day and I don't remember getting there. My father shows up and holds me, and weeps like I haven't seen him since he found out Mother was abusing me. He hugs me some more and I just bottle it all up and remain frozen in his arms. I don't think there's anything left inside me to give. No more tears to be had. I try to say it's not that bad, but it's pointless. I look like hell run over. Yellow and purple bruises covered my face, a broken nose, seatbelt burn across my chest, stab wounds, twenty-four stitches and crutches to top it off until I complete rehab. It's another day before I'm to be released, which will be followed by a month of physical therapy for my leg.

After a cardboard flavored meal provided by the hospital a little more awareness returned to me. I spasm in cognition and my hands flew to my hips feeling only the thin overly starched material of the hospital gown. I realized I wasn't in my clothing and I felt that tingling sensation creeping back up my neck. Another panic attack was coming, but I couldn't be bothered to stop it.

Father watched me with a wary eye from his spot next to my bed. He may have said something, but the growing chorus of cicadas in my ears drowned everything out. I threw the covers from my bed in a frantic search of the bed spread, then to the table, but there was nothing. The heartbeat on the monitor was steadily rising. My dad rose from his chair and gripped my shoulders.

His mouth moved, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.

"It's gone! Where is it?" I yelled.

I twisted from his shielding grip and continued chanting, "It's gone! It's gone! Where is it?"

My vision curled and my longs constricted and then two more orderlies stormed into the room. I'm held down and jabbed with a familiar needle, cold relief flooding my system.

* * *

Two officers, one I'd never met, came to collect my statement. It might have been evening now, the same day or a different one. I'd given up trying to keep track. They brought along with them my personal artifacts in a plastic baggy. I can see blood stained clothes, a wallet, and my mothers Zippo. A breath I'd been holding since I realized it was gone was finally released once I got the brushed metal in my hand, fingering the engraved image of the snowy black stallion. I tried for a smile and hoped they knew it was the best I could do for thanks.

They informed me Haymitch would be fine. It was touch and go in surgery, but he pulled through. He was going to need more recovery days here at the hospital after being shot twice in the chest, but otherwise expected to make a full recovery.

I'm forced now to finally recount my story in a statement. I've had some time to plan it now that I'm not so lost in a high of morphine and sedatives. I go with the truth, most of it. I edited some when it came to what happened graduation night. The blame is fully shouldered on Marvel. It was his idea after all to fake the rape so it's perfectly conceivable to say he killed Thresh too. I keep the others and myself out of it as much as I can. Marvel's the monster that murdered all my friends so what's adding one more to the list?

They buy it. Apparently Marvel had built up quite a record during his short stint in LA, a reason he fled town and returned home. He was the bag guy after all. I didn't even have to work as hard as I thought to convince them of a reason why Marvel would have been out there that night. The Police were eager to wrap up this case and it was already scandalous enough with out poking holes in my statement. Marvel was the son of one of the most powerful family's in Panem, his last name currently rested on many of the local branches of the Panem Bank. At least this way everyone felt like we got the villain and this could all be wrapped up in a neat little bow for the Police.

And also so I could protect Cato.

I hadn't seen him since we'd been taken into separate triage rooms at the hospital Sunday night. Coin's brief mention of him made me wonder how he was holding up, but I couldn't bring myself to voice the question. There was a mental block. Every time I would even start to think of him, just as the memories and feelings would start to build up in a recognizable warmth that pooled in my stomach they'd be dashed away with the chilling image of one of the lives lost in the past week leaving me hallow and aching.

The only bright spot in an otherwise terrible day was before the officer's leave—thanking me graciously for my statement—they informed me that Johanna was found at Capitol Park.

Alive.

She was now recovering here at the hospital too.

* * *

Learning that all those years of Marvel's love, friendship, and protection was really nothing more than a sociopath's psychotic fixation was a hard pill to swallow. It cast a toxic light on all my memories and tainted any good there might have been in the years before everything fell to shit with Thresh's murder.

Everything was a lie.

His love was a lie, his friendship and affection a lie.

On the last night in the hospital my dad's passed out in the chair next to the bed, some cookbook he was working on in his lap and his reading glasses still resting on his nose. It might have been around midnight or later, I didn't know for sure. I couldn't sleep and time seemed to all bleed together in the hospital at night.

"Thanks."

I startled and whipped my head towards the door. Even though I knew who it was the moment I heard his voice I still couldn't help the way my heart rate spiked. Cato didn't miss it on the heart monitor either. His right arm was in a sling, probably to keep it from moving and disturbing his gunshot wound. His face was strung tight, his jaw clenched and eyes wide like he wasn't sure if he should be here.

I noticed a fresh hospital bandage around his forearm where his mother had bitten him not a few nights before. It seemed like centuries ago now. My stomach gave a twist at the memory and what it meant now. His mother was now dead. What we thought we had that night seemed so far removed from the reality of our situation it had to be someone else's memory because good one's didn't belong to me anymore.

"Thanks for telling them it was Marvel who… you know…" He stumbled on the words. "With Thresh." He finished weakly.

I shrugged. It was no big deal. I wasn't going to lose my last friend to the police.

And now we both have killed someone.

Besides, they sure didn't want more tinder added to the fire. The high society of Panem was train wrecked by the events of this last week. I shuddered at the realization that an endless procession of funerals was in my near future. Could I even face their parents? Clove's hadn't even known she'd been back in town. Her little sister was sure to be devastated. Glimmer's dads had always been so nice to me. Katniss' family didn't need more loss.

And what of Marvel's parents? His funeral? Would there even be one and who would attend?

"How'd you get out of the chair?" I asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake my dad and ready for a distraction. Something to break the suffocating silence.

Cato still hovered in the doorway, but after my question a light ignited in his eyes as he stepped forward.

"When Marvel shot me the bullet went clean through. The doctor's said I was lucky. They have no idea." His good hand moved to ghost over the wound. "The bullet broke a vase behind me and when I tipped over I was able to get hold of a piece of it to cut the rope."

He took a step closer, almost to the edge of my bed.

"I'm sorry I frightened you back—back there. I was having black outs, I thought for a moment maybe I was the killer. I mean I had done it before and with the dolls and my mother…" He shook his head clear and then took the final step to the side of my bed.

"But I _knew_ I could never hurt you the moment I saw you."

The air felt thicker. Each breath a little more strained. I cursed the damn heart monitor. Why was I even attached to one?

"Peeta…"

There was more meaning packed in that whisper of my name than I knew what to do with. It felt like he was asking me something. It was too precious and vulnerable for me to handle. I butchered everything.

Cato's hand reached out for mine. I clenched my fist in a sudden reflex and his hand stalled. He hovered his palm over my fist. I could feel the heat of his skin like the promising warmth of the sun, but he never brought it down to touch. Then he was drawing away from me his face closing off.

"I'm going away for a while."

Fingers strained tighter in the clench of my fist, but I just nodded my head silently.

"I don't know how long it will take, but you're right I can't do this on my own. I need help. The doctor recommended a few good places, one's outside of Ventura, so it will only be a few hours drive away…" He trailed off, eyes unsure why he was saying this.

"Okay," I swallowed reflexively. "That—That'll be good for you."

My response must have disappointed as his eyes fell from my face and scanned the room nervously, resting on my sleeping father for a second and then the door over his shoulder.

"This might be goodbye for a while. I—I don't know what will happen."

I took a deep breath before it escaped in a regretful sigh.

"Neither do I."

* * *

It was a mob scene. After the hospital discharged me it took a police escort of eight to safely maneuver me in my wheelchair to my father's car. The media presence had only built over the succeeding days since Marvel's killing spree. Every major network, local and state affiliate, magazine and blog had a reporter stationed outside the hospital along with lookie-lous who built the crowd up to almost insurmountable levels. Everyone wanted a chance to see the boy at the center of it all, the gay love story gone terribly awry.

It was mortifying to see all the cameras and reporter's eyes trained on me. To see them struggling and shouting for my attention. Trying to snap a picture or get the first video footage of me, the locals of Panem straining their necks to catch a glimpse. It was a circus and I was the main attraction stuck at center stage. I stared straight ahead and tried to ignore all that was around me by focusing on each breath.

Reporters shoved microphones between the cracks in the police escort shouting questions I couldn't answer.

"_How are you feeling_?"

"_Is there anything you want to tell America_?"

"_How will you move forward_?"

One with pink hair was louder than the rest with her shrill voice:

"_When did you realize you were dating a killer_?"

"He's not answering any of your fucking questions! Just give him space!"

My father shouted until red in the face. He never swore. I worried for his heart.

People held signs demanding more action. Some wished Cato or Johanna or I well. A group prayed. Others lined the street silently mourning with pictures of all the victims and white candles burning in their hands. The faces of all the friends I lost hurt the most; enlarged yearbook pictures of Clove and Glimmer, Katniss and Finnick lashed at my heart. Photo's taken from Facebook of Gale and Estee. People they never knew and now never would. What good was their public mourning? It was insulting.

Two screaming people held large signs:

_Justice for Ruth._

_Justice for Thresh._

* * *

Home did not feel like home. It had not really felt that way in over a year. Except now it seemed exceptionally more isolated. My father was there, but so were an encampment of reporters out front of our property that boxed me in. Their conversations would filter up to the window in my room. Idle gossip and cruel accusation as to what actually happened at Cato's mansion. We were deluged with calls to appear on talk shows and evening news programs until my dad canceled our home phone service.

That first night at home I had my first nightmare. It was just Doll Face watching me at the park the night I reconnected with Gale, except the conversation faded off and Gale's voice was replaced on the other end with his dying breath. I woke up screaming Gale's name. The realization hit me that was the last time I spoke with Gale before his death.

* * *

The media frenzy refused to die down. There was a constant police escort with me whenever I left the house, which was daily for physical therapy and the psychiatrist. I worried the insatiable appetite for news on the murders would lead to more investigating of what happened to Thresh, especially with the growing voice in the Seam advocating for justice. They felt racism and classism were at play in the failure of the system to adequately investigate his death. They felt if it hadn't been a rich white girl with a powerful family in town crying rape by a poor southern black guy then more would have been done. It fed directly into the worst prejudices and stereotypes of society.

It eventually came out that Clove's parents pressured the Mayor into firing Haymitch when he wouldn't relent on his investigation. Mayor Snow was forced to resign in disgrace as more of his nasty politics were revealed in turning a blind eye to the blight affecting the poor in his city. He was a Mayor of the wealthy first and foremost and it lead to a corrupt local government of kickbacks and abuse only furthering the scandal and intensifying the news coverage. Sheriff Coin eventually stepped down as well after it was discovered I went to her with evidence of murder and she ignored it.

It should have felt like vindication. Instead it felt like another casualty.

The remainder of the Field's family, Ruth's Mother and two younger brothers got a settlement from the Cassel's and Bovet's. Marvel and Clove's parents were both eager to put this all behind them. A quick funeral for Marvel and then they disappeared. Some said they went to Europe. Others thought they were in the South Pacific.

During all of this the media became desperate to learn more about me and my anxiety grew. Cato was unreachable having disappeared to a psychiatric hospital and Johanna and Haymitch were equally as tight lipped. The particularly insufferable reporter with pink hair was arrested when she snuck onto our property to try and ambush me on my way to physical therapy. The reporters became less of a harassment after that, but their presence never fully dissipated.

* * *

The funerals began soon after my release, each one a procession of black and grief. There was no differentiating between them. Clove's sobbing relatives bled into the misery inflicted upon Katniss's family, the Preacher's sermon at Estee's funeral suddenly morphed into the Priest's final words at Finnick's. Glimmer was cremated and a reception was held in her honor at her house. Her two dads, holding each other in support of the weight of their loss, scattered her ashes over the rocky cliffs and out to sea.

And just like that it was all over. They were gone and all that lingered in their place was anguish and heartache.

With each passing day the quantity of anxiety meds I took slowly increased.

* * *

The unease wasn't lessening and I didn't know how to get rid of it in any constructive way. The media had me trapped. My father had me trapped. I couldn't sleep because of the nightmares. Marvel ripped everything I knew and loved from this world leaving me isolated and fearful.

Cato was off voluntarily institutionalized at some nut house and I imagined terrible tortures being forced upon him to treat his illness. Things like electro-shock therapy and lobotomies, isolation chambers with padded walls and straight jackets. Except then I would come to and realize it was I in the padded cell and locked in a straight jacket. I couldn't move with out crutches. I couldn't move with out close scrutiny on everything I did. I could barely get the strength to leave my room.

Three weeks in to physical therapy and I could finally stand and shower alone. At that point I felt confident enough to venture out with out a handler.

With my father's help as a decoy I managed to slip out unnoticed. I hadn't been to Johanna's small apartment in the downtown area since high school and even then it was only on rare occasions. She was embarrassed by where she came from and the apartment complex made the stark contrast all the more obvious. It was a decrepit building with dried out front lawns, mildew filled hallways and shoddy lighting. Another thing Mayor Snow had let fall by the wayside.

I knocked and then waited a beat. The door opened and I could hear her youngest sister giggling to _Spongebob_ on the television.

"Hello Ms. Mason, is Johanna here?"

Ms. Mason was a portly woman in a perpetual state of disarray, stains on her clothing from the youngest and hair unkempt. Her hazel eyes sharpened in sympathy as she took in my crutches and the still healing bruises on my face.

"I—I don't know if she's up for visitors right—" she was cut off as Johanna shouted from the other side of the door.

"It's okay, Ma. Let him in."

Ms. Mason stepped aside and let me into their small abode. The living room was barely big enough to fit a small couch, which was filled with Johanna's younger sisters. Ms. Mason pointed into the kitchen, but did not follow.

Johanna was seated at the table across from me when I got in there picking at a grilled cheese. I suddenly found my throat dry and my brain blank. I couldn't remember why I had come here. She took in my condition wordlessly, lips creased. I took the seat across from her, resting the crutches across my lap.

"I'd like to say this, for the both of us…" Her fierce eyes held mine. "Fuck Marvel. Fuck him with barbed wire."

"Yeah…" I wanted to laugh. It was so Johanna to say that, but I couldn't. Laughter wasn't in my wheelhouse anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't come to visit sooner—"

She waved it off with a flippant hand.

"Is that why you never told me? You were protecting him? You all were?"

It took me a minute to figure out what she was alluding to, Marvel and Thresh, graduation night.

"Oh…" I looked around, over my back. _Spongebob_ screeched from the television in the other room at a shrill level. No one would overhear. She deserved it. I had resolved to tell her before we were attacked. Maybe that was why I found myself here.

"Look that's not what really happened. You have to know I was going to tell you Sunday and— and I would have told you sooner! But it was all just so fucked…"

Johanna watched as I explained everything to her. The full truth of what happened. Her face gradually dissolved from a look of mild confusion to furious disbelief, her brows reaching further and further up her forehead towards her short brown hair. When finished I sat there in silence looking down at my hands twisting over the metal of my crutches.

"You need to leave."

"I—what?"

Her fist came to slam against the table. The plate clattered against the surface and her unfinished sandwich slid off.

"Get out of my home," Johanna seethed, barely containing what boiled beneath her skin.

I struggled to stand with my crutches, confused and upset. I knew this might be hard for her, but I thought it was what she wanted. I thought she would want to know the truth.

"Johanna, I'm sorry. I wanted—"

"No! You don't get to say sorry." Johanna was shaking she was so distraught. "Sorry wont change the fact that you covered up a murder! Sorry wont change the fact that you got my father fired as Sheriff! Sorry wont change the fact that your boyfriend went psycho and killed all our friends! _Sorry_ wont make me walk again!"

Johanna pushed away from table and I finally understood that she wasn't seated in a chair like the one I had been in, but a wheelchair. She rolled herself around the table and came to a stop before me.

"Take a good look. Because this is the last time you will ever see me. I'm done. I've paid the price for all of your guys' fucked up mistakes for too long. Now get the hell out."

Then she rolled away and left me breathless in the kitchen. I barely made it to my car before the panic attack set in. I struggled to get enough air in my lungs. Everything was tight, too tight, I was constrained by the weight of a punishing gravity and it was suffocating. My mind swirled. I fumbled with two pills in my hand and swallowed them dry, waiting for the drowsy fog of indifference to set in.

* * *

The police never came to arrest me for obstructing justice. It meant Johanna had not told anyone what I shared with her. If I was in a better place I might have held out hope that it meant she still cared, but I knew it had to mean she was truly done with me.

Even in death Marvel stole my last friend away from me.

* * *

I sat in my room alone, chin tucked in the nook between my folded knees. The lights were never on. I lied and said they hurt my eyes, but in reality I just couldn't face myself. I'd rather live blind in the dark.

I would pop a Klonopin, maybe my third for the day, and sit in the shadows flicking the flint wheel of my mother's Zippo. The flame that would spark to life hypnotized me as it wavered gently before me, warm and inviting. Always better than the spurts of arterial blood and cold steel I dreamt of at night.

The first letter had arrived today and induced a sharp spike of anxiety like a punch to the heart. It was from Cato, his slanted handwriting recognizable on front of the envelope. I had felt the weight of it in my hand briefly before tossing it aside on the windowsill and turning my back to it.

As the benzodiazepines hit my system the familiar fog would roll in, blanketing my brain in a warm layer of lethargy. My limbs would grow weak and my eyes would droop with relief. The reduction of brainpower was always a welcome respite from the hellish cacophony of thoughts and anxious fears that would storm through like a category five hurricane. Especially on a day like today with memories of Cato front and center.

* * *

Another letter came the following week. I didn't read that one either. Instead I threw it atop the first one on my windowsill next to my mother's Zippo.

* * *

My brother, Crispen, came to visit with Julia. They had postponed the wedding in hopes that I would be able to attend it when better. They were visiting to check up on me. Father had some deluded idea that being with family in this moment would help. But I didn't want to see them. I couldn't.

The morning Father went to pick them up at the airport I took two more Klonopin and passed out in a drugged heap above the covers with the door locked.

I eventually woke to the pounding on my door and a furious Dad.

"Get up, Peeta! You need to get up!" He shouted through the bleached wood door. "This can't go on forever. You almost died on me, but you made it! You lived and Marvel died! He's dead now and can't do you any more harm. Please, son… I can't lose you now. You can't let yourself die, not now, not after everything."

He paused in his sermon, his breathing heavy and ragged on the other side of the door.

"At some point you're going to have to try," He spoke softly.

I could just imagine his face red from the outburst and heavy with grief, but I just put my headphones in and rolled over.

When I woke again with the burning need to pee and a fuzzy milky taste in my mouth I found another letter set in front of my door. I leapt away from it like it was a pile burning coal before slowly bending to pick it up. Twisting it in my hand I debated the merits of finally opening one and seeing what he had to say. I was desperate to know how he was doing and at the same time terrified to know the truth. The truth hurt too much.

If someone loved you they should know to lie.

And so I marched back into my room, sturdy on both feet with out the need for crutches. I could go up to maybe fifteen minutes or so before my right leg started to twinge, but I expected it would one day return to its former glory. My former relationship with Cato? Not so much. I added his letter to the growing pile on my windowsill before going to relieve my bladder.

* * *

It became too taxing to even think his name, so I blotted it out. Where there should have been Cato in my mind there was just a smudged memory, a smear of illegible ink. There was so much pain anyways; I could never tell if it was because I was systematically destroying the love that was still there or because of the love I thought I knew with Marvel had turned on me like cancer. I was being eaten alive from the inside out and so it was just best not to think of him at all. Maybe if I destroyed it all before it got me things would be better.

* * *

Gale's parent's paid an unexpected visit. They had slipped in and out of town hastily to collect their son's remains then held a quick funeral with just the immediate family. If there was one funeral I wanted more than any to attend it was Gale's. It was like a slap to the face to discover after leaving the hospital that he was gone, yet again. A final goodbye denied to me.

His mother and stepfather were small, unassuming people. The type you'd figure were never ones for a scene or prone to drawing attention to themselves. Seeing that made it easier to forgive them for stealing their son away with out allowing the chance for a proper goodbye.

I'd only taken one anxiety pill that morning so I postponed the consumption of anymore until after they had left. I figured I owed it to them to be coherent and present in the moment with them. My father made them tea and we sat on the back porch. The summer's heat was at its peak, but the shade of the porch made for a pleasant respite.

They remained silent, holding each other's hands for support. I fidgeted with mother's Zippo in the pocket of my shorts until I gathered the courage to tell them of their son's final minutes; how brave he was, how he was loved and cared for up to the last breath. The back of my throat burned uncomfortably and sweat blossomed across my chest. I itched for another Klonopin, I wasn't meant to feel these things anymore. But I held on, explaining to them how Marvel wanted to remove his competition. How he had lured Gale with threats to my safety. Gale always put other's first. Hazelle smiled at that despite the tears in her eyes.

She gave me a mother's hug before she left. While ensconced in her comforting embrace she whispered in my ear.

"I'm so sorry for the horrors you endured. I—I can only imagine. But I do know Gale cared greatly for you—" She broke off with a muffled moan. She squeezed tighter. "And I'm just glad he had someone who loved him by his side at the end."

Then she pulled away and they were gone.

Gale's mother had his eyes. Long after they were gone her eyes lingered in my mind soft and soothing like a warm ocean breeze. A breeze I'd never feel again; a current that would never sweep me away again.

In my room I pulled out my phone that was recovered in the wreck and played the only voicemail I had left. The one I had yet to delete. The one that when played, tugged at my stomach and burned the back of my throat:

"_Peeta, call me back as soon as you get this. I need to know you're all right_."

The newest letter from Cato along with the addition of the framed photo of Marvel and I at prom was a stark reminder of the mess my vacillating feelings caused. How indecisive I still was regardless of the pain it created.

The Cassel's were truly gone, their house having gone up for sale. I went by it one last time and noticed all of Marvel's stuff on the curb for the trash collectors. I don't know why but it was nauseating to see how they were wiping out any memory of his existence. After rummaging through I found Marvel's favorite photo of us on the red carpet and for some reason couldn't let it go. Just like I couldn't let go of my mother's lighter. Just like the pile of letters continued to grow on the window ledge and yet I still couldn't bring myself to read a single one let alone respond.

I took some more pills and pressed repeat on the voicemail.

"I don't want to be me anymore," I whispered into the phone as if Gale were truly on the other line.

Eventually my muscles relaxed and I found respite in my nightmares. The pain and suffering, the blood and steel the only comfort I knew anymore.

* * *

His flesh boiled and burst with the warped heat of the flames and yet he still advanced unhindered. The light of the flames sparked off the massive steel butchers knife in his hand and the porcelain of his face. The roar of the fire I started drowned out my cries for help. What I had thought would save me turned on me. Mother's love never protected me. Marvel's love never protected me. They just scorched the earth barren.

The flames leapt up the walls and licked at my hands, searing them and leaving behind blood red welts. The Zippo dropped from my hands and disappeared amongst the charred wood and blood. I tried to run but the bodies of my friends boxed me in. I was on my own.

Sharp cold penetrated my chest, slipping between my ribs and puncturing my heart. The last thing I saw was fire, porcelain and hateful eyes filled with silvery smoke. Then I awoke gasping for breath and clutching my mother's lighter in clammy hands.

An adult swim marathon and a pill later I was asleep and thankfully dreamless.

* * *

Days turned to weeks, which in turn became months.

Nothing changed.

* * *

**Three Months Later**

Summer was coming to an end and the media frenzy might have died down, the reporters long gone from my front lawn and fading from town like the setting sun, but even in the absence of all the lights and attention I struggled to find normalcy. Synapses fired with out connecting in my brain. Thoughts would fall off without completion. Minutes would bleed to hours in the dark confines of my bedroom. The pile of letters on my windowsill grew each week. Nightmares plagued my restless mind at night with violent sequences of screams and geysers of blood, porcelain dolls and love lost.

My father was at the end of his rope. The rescheduled wedding was fast approaching and things were not better. He thought if he scheduled more sessions with the psychiatrist things would turn around. He thought if he loved me enough, if he bribed or yelled or begged enough I would turn a one-eighty. Instead I withdrew further from all company, eschewing the most basic human interactions for a handful of pills and a lighter that held all too much significance for what it had cost me.

Standing before the mirror behind my door I examined the gaunt flesh that stretched pale and lifeless over my bones. My hair was back to its original sandy blonde, but I didn't look like me anymore. I felt abandoned. If I believed in a God I would have thought he had deserted me to the Devil. But that's not how life worked. Everyone made his or her own choices, the Devil didn't hold sway over Marvel's soul no matter how easy it was to think he was corrupted by evil.

The towel slipped from my hip and crumpled around my feet. The buzz of drugs in my system lingered in the background like the soft brush of the sun's rays on my skin, not overpowering, but noticeable when given thought. My eyes swept over the pale expanse of my skin, taking in all the differences that popped before them. My nose was a little crooked from the break, but the most obvious was the four-inch stretch of silvery skin across my mid-thigh.

My fingers ghosted over the scar. It was tough and raised from the rest of the unblemished skin around my thigh. It was smaller than my memories made it out to be, smaller by any right than it had due to the damage it wrought. I twisted around and analyzed over my shoulder the longer scar that slashed across my right shoulder blade at a crooked angle. It stretched from the top of my shoulder to the middle of my back.

I was forever marked.

I was forever Marvel's.

The mirror rattled against the door with the three strong raps that beat out against it from the opposing side. A quick check reassured me it was still locked so I refrained from answering, hoping Dad would get the hint and really not try this again today.

When I leaned down to pick the towel back up he spoke from the other side.

"Peeta, please let me in."

I was frozen, everything locked up and cinched tight like a tightly wound coil. Waiting to see if it was real or a figment of my imagination. Waiting for that voice to set the release and let the bound coil in my chest unspool. Maybe it would fill all the missing pieces.

But then again I had too many holes no one thing could possibly fill them all. No one person can be the answer, even Cato.

"Give—give me a second," I croaked out finally moving again.

I threw the towel in the corner and then scrambled about in the piles of clothing on my floor for a pair of clean underwear and something marginally unwrinkled and scentless to wear.

I unlocked the door and then stepped back giving one more once over in the mirror and cringing at the sight before brushing it off. I hadn't cared about my appearance all summer, why start now.

The door cautiously creaked open as Cato interpreted the click of the door unlocking as his invite to enter. Unexpectedly, before he was revealed to me, I turned away from the door. I moved to my unmade bed and musky sheets, crawling to the far corner of the bed nearest the wall. Then I pulled up my knees and avoided his face.

"Peeta?" His voice was soft and pleasant. Tentative, yet encouraging.

"Yeah?"

I can't. I can't do it. It was a mantra repeated over and over in my head.

The bed dipped to accommodate his weight.

"Can you look at me?"

I can't.

_I can't._

I jolted at the feel of cool skin, soft and pliant against the scruff of my chin as he gently guided my head up to face him and…

What ever I thought might happen—the righting of the earth, the final chink in my armor shattering what remained of me, an overflowing of warmth and sunshine—well none of it happened. Instead I saw the same cobalt eyes and blonde hair, strong jaw and pink lips. My chest might have tightened for a second, but otherwise I remained the same. The buzz of drugs still lingered in the background, the misery still hung over my head like a black cloud. The spool of wire never unwound in my chest.

Cato looked remarkably unchanged. He still wore the same clothes, a little preppy, a little frat-like, but well fitted. He still held the quirk of a smile in the corner of his lips and teasing light in his eyes. There was just one difference I noticed instantly. The set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself contained more confidence. Real confidence, not the type molded from high school popularity.

He continued to watch me with curious eyes, content to stay silent.

"Wh—" I broke off to clear my throat. I was nervous and slightly undone by his sudden appearance and proximity.

After gathering myself I finally asked what he was doing here.

"Visiting you of course," He stated it so simply, like there was no other explanation necessary and never would be.

_I can't do this_.

"And the hospital?"

"I'm out on a day pass. My psychiatrist, she thought it would be a good idea to get out, resolve some unfinished business." Cato smiled to himself at some inside joke. "She's tough on me, Lyme, but I need it. She's really helped tremendously already. I'm on a steady schedule of medications to help manage my symptoms and I have hope for the first time in ages that maybe I don't have to become my mother. It wont be easy, but when has anything ever been easy?"

He laughed at that. He spoke openly and freely like we had the easiest rapport built between us. It was disconcerting to see such a markedly improved Cato. It made me think this is the man Cato was supposed to be, easy going, charming and playful, not paranoid, reclusive and aggressive.

A spark of jealousy flared in the cage of my ribs.

"That's great and all, but why are you telling me this?" I snapped, biting on the inside of my cheek.

Cato's face scrunched up endearingly and only fed the fire in my chest. I didn't want him here. I didn't ask for him to come and tell me how hopeful he was and how everything's turned around for him. _Congratu-fucking-lations_.

"Because, Peeta. This is it. This is our chance: a chance to be reborn from the ashes, a second shot at life, a chance for us to do it better. And I want to do it with you."

Cato pushed forward into my space to pull my arms from around my knees and hold both of my hands in his. His grip was tight and unyielding, yet warm and pleading. I couldn't stand looking in his eyes a moment longer and so I instead turned to stare at the windowsill.

His gaze followed and settled on the pile of unopened letters. His grip loosened slightly, but he remained holding my hands. His thumb rubbing annoying patterns over my knuckles.

He didn't miss the newest addition to the windowsill either; the framed prom photo of Marvel and I. Cato graciously chose not to comment on the picture.

"At the institution they didn't just help me with my schizophrenia. They also helped me come to terms with my sexuality. Schizophrenia can be triggered in patients by strenuous life situations and the struggle with my sexuality definitely fueled its early onset. It was Lyme's idea to start writing those letters. She thought I might be able to express myself more fluidly on paper and so I tried it and suddenly I just couldn't stop writing. It all just poured out, everything I had ever wanted to say to you."

One hand left mine to finger through the letters, almost as if he were counting them, making sure they were all there and unread.

"I understand why maybe you couldn't bring yourself to read these yet, but I hope you do. Lyme helped me realize something else too. How much we need each other now."

He looked at me imploringly, but I just couldn't see it. I continued to avoid his gaze.

"And why is that?" I asked snidely. Everything that came out of my mouth was laced in a toxic layer of spitefulness towards Cato. I couldn't do this and so I needed to protect myself.

He laughed in disbelief or maybe endearment.

"You and I survived. After everything we have been put through, all the suffering and loss we made it through," Cato said earnestly. The light was overflowing in his eyes. His grip on my hand grew steadily hotter as it felt like a force outside our own was pulling us together. "We're the only ones who really know what it was like. No one else understands. We survived."

I can't. I wasn't ready. I tried to pull back from him, but it was like he had his own gravitational pull that was keeping me in place.

I bit harder against my cheek harder and tasted the salt of blood against my tongue.

"No one else has our connection, Peeta. You were _never_ an experiment."

Please, he couldn't go there. I was desperate not to hear it. The way he was looking at me, the way he was moving in close was too much. My heartbeat ratcheted up at a dizzying rate.

"I love you, Peeta Mellark."

Then his lips pressed against mine with out consent, but honestly I couldn't remember a time when he didn't have it. His lips moved against my still ones. My head was spinning with a rush of thoughts and emotions. My face flooded with the heat of the kiss and my stomach dropped out from beneath me. I relented against the onslaught of feelings and his tongue just barely slipped in to brush against mine tasting my blood mixed with the essence of me. He sighed into the kiss. I was reminded of our first real kiss, one that tasted of deli meats and cheeses. Something like hope bubbled up in my chest like acid indigestion and I wasn't ready for it. Suddenly I pushed back and there was a loud thump as Cato fell from the bed.

"You can't do that!" I shouted, rising to my knees on the bed to tower over his surprised form on the floor. "You don't know _anything_ about what I've been through! You were gone! These past three months it has been just me as everything crumpled around me. Johanna hates me. The media wont give me a moments peace and everyone's dead because of me!"

I was shaking. I don't know where this was coming from. I hadn't been this active and lively in months. Something, some fuse inside me had been lit and I didn't know where it was leading, but I was angry.

"While you were off getting better I was left fighting my self-loathing and nightmares and only getting worse! You left me… _you left me_!"

The last words I gasped out, surprised and horrified at them. I had never thought them before, but there I was saying it and realizing deep down it was him I needed most, but couldn't allow myself to have.

Cato righted himself and stood before me at the edge of the bed no longer looking like the playful Cato of earlier. He was equally as angry.

"You don't think I've been through shit? You don't think I've had my own fuckton share of burdens?" He shouted back incredulously. "A reporter pretended to be a patient at my hospital to try and get to me! My best friend tried to make me think I was crazier than my mother and then frame me for the murder of all our friends! I think we both got the short end of the shittiest fucking stick so don't you lecture me on how hard it's been for you."

Then he got right up in my face and latched his eyes onto mine. I couldn't look away this time and finally I didn't want to.

"I tried. I'm seeking help and you cannot blame me for that. I'm working to get better and at some point Peeta you're going to have to try too."

It was an electric shock to the system, but I wasn't yet ready to contemplate the meaning. Cato pulled back, but never broke the intensity of his fiery stare.

"Peeta, god damn it…" He sighed and carded his hand through his hair roughly. "I fell for you before I knew you. Back when Marvel said he had to make sure no one gave the new out gay kid any trouble. I didn't understand why he took such an interest in you, but then I began to pay closer attention and I saw what anyone who got close to you saw. How you were so full of life and kindness. How you could make someone feel special, how you could connect with people and make them believe in themselves, like you did with me.

I could ignore the feelings I had for you until you became my friend. Then there was no more denying and things spiraled with my illness and the homophobia I internalized from my father. But I want you to know I will always fight for you. Always. Even in my darkest moments you are the light that guides me and I'll never—_never_ go wrong by you."

Cato paused, breathing heavily like he had just run a marathon. He did just run the emotional gamut.

He took my right hand and cupped it between both of his much larger ones. The feelings of comfort and protection came racing back and betrayed my reluctant body. His eyes were wet and pleading as he bared everything before me. I had never seen him so naked before and it was terrifying to know it was because of me, how he felt for me.

"I love you and I know that word might terrify you now, but I'm going to be here. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not going to hurt you. I promise you that. I belong to you. You belong with me."

He paused and pulled my hand up to press a delicate kiss against. It was wetter than necessary due to the stray tears that slipped from his closed eyes. When he looked back up at me they were wiped clear and confident.

"But that's the most I can do. You are going to have to decide for yourself if you want me here. Maybe, just maybe through all these bloody games things can get better for us, you just have to say yes."

I didn't know when the last time I took a breath was, but I was choking for air and gasped in a ragged breath. Cato joined me, breathing in unison with the rise and fall of my chest. His rapturous blue eyes held connected to mine waiting patiently for a response.

Was this the moment for a decision to be made?

A million thoughts whirled through my mind, but none stuck long enough to be processed. Is it really possible to salvage anything between us? Even after all we'd been through? Was Cato even trustworthy with his mental health problems? And was I too far gone down the rabbit hole of despair, too broken and mangled to be what he deserved?

He was waiting for a response and in this moment there was nothing I could do or give. My chest trembled with the pieces of my broken heart and I knew something needed to be done.

I slipped my hand from between the grip of his two hands and pulled back with a remorseful shake of the head.

"I—I can't."

Cato nodded tightly, the clench of his jaw the only sign of his true feelings. His mouth still managed to pull out a charming smile that even reached his eyes.

"Then I should go. It's a couple hours back to Ventura and I want to visit my mother's grave first."

He tossed one more glance at the window ledge with all the dreary artifacts of my past and then headed towards the door. I was pulled forwards when he passed through the door as if by an invisible string that connected us, then choked on my tongue trying to find the right thing to say before he was gone.

I heard him bid goodbye to my father and then as the front door opened. My pulse was racing and my hands cold no longer in his grasp. Having had just that little taste and suddenly it was like I'd never given it up, a drug user who's fallen off the wagon with one little hit.

How was I supposed to continue now?

The ignition started on Cato's car and stirred within my heart. I remained frozen for a while longer, stunned by the turn in today's events. Things had grown so monotonous and dark that the light presented before me was frightening. Had I ruined my chance? I didn't know for sure, but I knew if I wanted to be worthy of such love I had to try. For everyone remaining in my life and still standing by my side, they deserved better.

And so I rose from my bed with a fire ignited in my bones and burning from my system the remainder of the drugs. Then I grabbed the framed photo and lighter from my windowsill, along with the Klonopin on my dresser and stormed from my room with a sense of purpose I hadn't felt since before graduation.

_I can_.

It was all so clear. I could do this, but only I. I was stronger than this. No man had to come and save me, I could do it myself. No matter how much I wanted to help Cato in the end it had to be his decision to seek the treatment he needed. Now it was my turn to help myself.

I could no longer use people as a crutch; I needed to stand on my own.

"Peeta? What's wrong?"

Father called after me, but I ignored him. I had a mission. I scooped up my keys from the bowl in the foyer and raced out the front door.

"Peeta!"

I slipped in the car and quickly backed out the driveway without a word to my father. I needed to do this alone.

Half an hour later I found my destination. It was a beautiful summer's day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and a cool ocean breeze kept the brightly shining sun from creating a stifling heat. I hadn't seen such a beautiful day since Cato took us on that drive out of town. It was a nice reminder that even in the chaos of it all there were good moments.

I pulled the photograph out of the frame and then journeyed into the cemetery. I wasn't sure where her grave was, just the general area near a willow tree and a few marble mausoleums, so I meandered between the headstones searching. Her headstone appeared before me like magic and maybe I hadn't forgotten the placing of it so much as repressed it, like most memories of her.

_Madeline Alice Mellark, 1964 to 2012_.

It was the first time visiting her grave since the funeral. I didn't think I would ever find myself back here, but it was time to let go.

I pulled out the picture of Marvel and I, staring at it for a solid minute in silent thoughtfulness before I could even begin what I had started.

"I'm done with both of you. All you are to me now is a struggle in my past that I will have overcome."

I pulled my mother's lighter from my pocket and flicked the flint wheel. The flame flickered in the light breeze, but remained strong and so could I. My eyes burned with the threat of tears, but I was done crying because of them.

"Neither of you own me," I hissed.

Then I took the flame to the picture and watched as the photograph warped and scorched until I could no longer hold it with out getting burned. The ashes of the photo fell to my feet where I stomped out the remainder of the smoldering photo with the heel of my foot. I ground it out until it was just particles of dust intermingled with the dirt of the ground.

After a deep breath I dropped to my knee and with my palms cupped like a shovel I began to dig into the earth before Mother's headstone. The tightly packed earth fought against my fingers and a nail chipped off as I dug into the dirt. I relished the pain and the feel of the cold dirt against my fingers as I dug a small hole.

Once satisfied with the shallow depth of the hole I placed the black stallion engraved lighter inside it. I had no need for her in my life anymore. Then I pulled the pill bottle from my pocket and emptied the contents into the hole with the lighter. Prescription drug abuse was her thing, _not_ mine. There might be symptoms of withdrawal in my near future do to my abuse of the substance, but things worth fighting for always came with a price. Otherwise what was anything worth?

I stood back up and covered the hole with dirt and packed it down with my feet. The back of my throat itched uncomfortably, but I held back the emotions that swirled inside me like a tornado until the hole was firmly covered up. Everything that connected me to the past needed to be wiped clean. Maybe the Cassel's were on to something. I didn't need these reminders; I had enough in my head.

The world spun dizzyingly before my eyes and I collapsed to the ground above my mother's grave. It was a long and bloody road that led me to this place and I wished it had never happened. I wished so hard for my friends to be standing next to me, helping me grieve the death of a mother I loved instead of feared. I wished Marvel didn't have to be a psychopath and Cato schizophrenic. I wished for everything and nothing at all.

Suddenly arms wrapped around me from behind and I let out the tears I had been holding back since I left the hospital. I finally cried for everything I had lost and was forced to endure. I cried for the death of all my friends. I cried for the loss of my innocence and Thresh's family. I cried for all the love I had that was just a lie.

And then I stopped.

My father tightened his hold on me and helped pull me to my feet. There was a wet patch on my shoulder where his own tears and stained my shirt. He must have followed me from the house, which I couldn't blame him.

"I'm proud of you, son and I love you so very much."

I turned to look at him and saw the man I never truly paid attention to, a man who loved his children fiercely and worked to support and do right by them as a single father. Now that I had let go of my mother maybe I could finally let him in.

"Thanks dad, I love you too." I paused and took one last look at her gravestone. She was six feet under and long gone, just like Marvel. There was nothing more they could do to me unless I allowed it and I wouldn't. Not anymore. "Can you make me pancakes at home?" I asked.

He scrutinized my face a few seconds longer before smiling fondly and ruffling my hair before shoving me back towards the cars.

"Of course I can, anything you want."

We walked back to our cars side-by-side in peaceful silence and for the first time in a long time I had hope.

**Thank you all for coming with me on this crazy, bloody journey. I truly hope you enjoyed it. This story has given me some crazy frustration at times when I struggled to translate what I had planned in my head to the page and massively doubted how it would all play out, but in the end I think it was all worth it. **

**I began this because I had always wanted to try my hand at the horror genre and I thought the Hunger Games translated well to a slasher story since so many of the characters die anyways. But I also wanted it to be full of heart and truth, not just outlandish murders and a masked killer for the sake of it. I wanted the undercurrent to be something more, one that dealt with love and loss, redemption and finding one's self. I hope I tapped into all those things truthfully, but I'll let you all be the judge. **

**Anyways thank you, thank you, thank you for taking the time to read this monstrous fic and leaving comments if you did! They meant the world and helped kick me in the ass when I was feeling extra procrastinate-y. You're the best for making it this far with me and I love ya for it! So please leave me a more review telling me what you thought of it all.**

**Thanks again for all the support,**

**Crobb07**


	16. Epilogue

**Okay so here it is, the epilogue, the final finale of the Blood Games. It's nothing gratuitously long. I knew what I wanted and here it is. I hope you like it and it offers the closure that maybe the final chapter didn't provide.**

Epilogue

The bright lights weren't as blinding as I expected them to be, nor was it as intimidating as expected, but they were fucking hot. Sweat beaded at the nape of my neck building to make a break for it down my back. Thank god the prop department had a spare undershirt to give me. Everyone was very kind and overly doting, afraid I might break at a moment's notice, which was true at one point. But I was better now, mostly.

The audience was very quiet and respectful. It was unnerving after having watched the Late Night Show with Caesar Flickerman before and knowing how lively he liked to keep things. But this interview, the first public speaking engagement I had done since the killings, was surprisingly subdued.

I was pulled from my thoughts as we were thrust back into it from the last commercial break. We'd been talking for the better part of an hour now.

"Now tell us about your friend Cato Ryves." Caesar began softly, like we were holding secret counsel. "As I'm sure you are well aware, rumors have been rampant as to his condition, some even saying he's been committed. No one has really seen him since he left the hospital back in May."

Caesar encouraged me with an eccentric smile, all shocking white teeth. His silvery-blonde died hair was coiffed so high on his head it looked like the working nest of a deranged bird. I restrained a laugh at that thought. This was serious I reminded myself.

"Well, I don't want to infringe on his privacy, but no he hasn't been 'committed.'" I hedged, collecting my thoughts.

Truthfully I hadn't thought of Cato much since our last conversation—which hadn't ended on the best of terms—as I tried to focus on my recovery. I wasn't sure what was worse, the withdrawal from the anxiety meds or that the letters had stopped. The nightmares were just an accepted fact of life anymore. Either way I had decided if I wanted to find myself again I had to do it alone and that meant no lingering thoughts on something not meant to be.

"He's doing well, though. We're both on a path to recovery. After you live through something like that it seems almost impossible to find a way forward, but I think we've finally found our way…" I trailed off, Cato's smiling face lingering in my mind and twisting my gut.

Caesar hummed in thought. The audience shared in my pain. The topics tonight had ranged all over, from a rehashing of the terror I experienced to my thoughts on Panem Beach's corrupt politics.

"It seems very much like you two have a profound connection. If not before this, then definitely after as you two barely survived the murders at his mansion. Care to speak to the rumors that float out there about the two of you as something more than friends?"

I knew it was coming. Everyone knew the reason for all the murders was because Marvel was psychotic and taking out any competition and barriers to our relationship, but we had yet to touch on the rumors of my physical relationship with Marvel's best friend.

"I think I'd like to leave some things just that, rumors." I smiled, but internally I cringed. I may have saved myself, but at what cost? Cato was no longer in my life. Neither was Johanna. The only two friends I had left.

Caesar, ever a gracious host, redirected the interview towards more neutral ground with questions on what I planned to do next. I told him of my brother's wedding I would be attending this weekend and then how I had withdrawn from ASU and would reapply to a college out-of-state to work on a degree in art therapy. I kept it vague trying to keep some things private. I didn't need people following me to my new school as I tried to start over. Since Thresh's murder I had stopped painting all together, but in the past few weeks I really dove back into it as a form of therapy. If I could use art as a way to help others then that would really be a dream come true.

"My gosh, you are a stronger man than I, Peeta Mellark. The odds may not have been favorable, but I only wish you the best in your future endeavors. Stay in touch," Caesar said, gripping my hand tightly in his bejeweled one before swiveling back to face camera left. "Lets give him a round of applause! And don't you change that channel. We've got a short break and then we'll close out on Fashion Enforcement with fan favorite, Cinna!"

The crowd finally broke from its reverential silence to cheer. Then it was a cut and I was allowed to leave the stage, but the crowd continued applauding, even rising to their feet for a standing ovation. I wasn't sure it was the appropriate response, but it felt good nonetheless.

"Thank you, Mr. Flickerman. It was surprisingly therapeutic to talk to you." I smiled genuinely.

Was I really as strong a man as he said? I hoped one day I could be.

He stood in his gold pin-stripped suit and matching shoes—an outfit no one could pull off except for the eccentric late night personality of Caesar Flickerman—and pulled me into a showy hug.

"Of course! Of course! Please call me Caesar. And I mean it do stay in touch. I feel a personal investment in your story."

Taken aback by his sincerity I made a grunting sound in response. Then my eyes connected with another's in the audience. They were eerily familiar. But when I tried to focus on them I was being escorted off the stage and through the back. After one last look thrown over my shoulder for confirmation the eyes had already disappeared.

There was a crowd waiting at the back exit to see me, but the PA's and security guards held them at bay as I met with my father and we slipped in the chauffeured town car. The evening had overwhelmed to say the least. I collapsed in the back seat and gratefully accepted the cold water handed to me by Father.

Once back at our Beverly Hills Hotel suite I found there was an unsettling sensation taking root in to the pit of my stomach. Whether it was because of the interview or those familiar eyes I wasn't sure, I just knew I needed space. When my dad put his hand on my shoulder I shrugged it off.

"I'll be in my room."

He watched me go as I locked myself away in the separate room. There was a king bed in the center of the space furnished with a modern looking couch, small fridge, flat screen television and desk. In the walk-in closet hung my suit for the wedding and on the desk sat my suitcase. It was way too big of a place for just one person.

I walked over to the suitcase, my stomach undulating with waves of discomfort. I opened the top zipper flap and pulled from within it a bundle of letters. I wasn't sure why I brought them with me, but I couldn't bear to leave them sitting on the windowsill at home.

Nesting myself in the center of the large plush bed I splayed the letters out before me on the comforter. The road to recovery was long and bumpy and never going to be easy. Ignoring Cato's involvement in it was disingenuous and Caesar's word's continued to play over in my mind like a broken record, 'you two have a profound connection.' If I was truly going to move forward with my life I needed to accept what we had and where we ended up. That included these letters. It was the last thing I needed to resolve and I couldn't keep waiting for it to just fix itself.

After a shaky breath I drew the first letter into my hand. The envelope was creased and worn at the edges from the many times I had fingered them upon the windowsill. The paper easily tore open and a single lined sheet slid out.

_Dear Peeta—_

I looked away, choking down the burning sensation in the back of my throat, his slanted handwriting acutely recognizable to me. It was almost like he was here with me and I wasn't sure I was ready to confront him just yet. But who knew when I would ever be ready. The time was now to acknowledge his presence in my life.

_Dear Peeta,_

_I'm writing to you from the Del Mar Behavioral Institute. It's an in-patient psychiatric hospital that specializes in behavioral health care. I'm not sure why I'm telling you this, I guess because it's easier than saying what's really on my mind. The truth is fucking hard, you know that. But my psychiatrist suggested I try my hand at writing. She thought it might be therapeutic or something. I don't know, but here I go._

_I think most of all I want you to know I'm sorry. So fucking sorry. For everything. It feels like the weight of the world has come crashing down on me and I don't know how to stand under the weight of it all. Everyday it's a miracle I manage to get out of this bed because every morning I'm reminded of the horror we lived through and the terrible thing I did that started it all._

_Fuck, if I had just been stronger. If I had just been smarter. If I had just been more like you maybe I wouldn't have been so afraid of myself. I could have stopped it all before it began. Before it spiraled out of control with Thresh and I hurt everyone I loved. Before our group fell apart and Marvel was given the final push down a dark road. I know I'm not responsible for his actions, but I can't help but think what if? What if I hadn't started it all that night? Would we be here now scarred and broken? Would our friends still be alive?_

_My father abandoned my mother and I a long time ago. Her illness was too much for him and my budding interest in men a sinful disease he couldn't tolerate. The last real conversation I had with him ended with him telling me faggots aren't real men. I've been going it alone for so long I forgot what it was like to feel cared for, to feel special and worthy. _

_Peeta you made me feel those things. I've never been so honest with a person as I have been with you. It terrifies and excites me equally._

_That night at my house after my mother attacked you, well it was the closest I've ever felt to anyone. I know that's probably sick and twisted and the memory of that night shouldn't stand out among all the tainted horror of that week, but it does. I can't stop thinking about how real it felt, how that morning the first thought on my mind wasn't of my mother or my worsening illness, but of how happy I felt just to have you in my arms._

_I don't know where I'm going with all of this, but I do know one thing. When I get out of here, when I'm confident in my health and worthy I will come for you. I will fight for what I've always wanted, but was too pathetic and frightened to try. _

_You're compassion, your loyalty and way with words move me. They make me want to be a better man. A man worthy of the love you have to give. I know you're frightened. You've been hurt more than anyone I know by the people you've given your heart to, but that isn't a reflection of your character. Love is never wrong. The people who abused your love, twisted and manipulated it, made you feel inferior, they are wrong. _

_You are special Peeta. So fucking special and one day I hope to make you see that. Until then I will keep fighting to get out of bed in the morning. Until then I'll keep writing you these letters._

_Truly yours,_

_Cato Ryves_

That night I fell asleep in the pile of letters, the discomforting sensation in my stomach long forgotten. They were my shelter. It felt like he was there with me in that lonely room, a rock to keep me sturdy as I tried to stand against my fears and demons and for the first time in months I slept with out nightmares.

The next morning I hopped on the plane for Austin with a smile on my face and a warm feeling of contentment in my chest. Father might have noticed, but was kind enough not to draw attention to it. I think he was happy just seeing a smile on my face unprovoked.

The wedding was being held at the W hotel downtown. Julia's father was going for lavish. Unfortunately for me that meant I had cost him a lot of money when I caused the wedding date to be pushed back. Our interactions were gratefully limited as the wedding planner kept us on a tight schedule. Fittings and pictures and rehearsal dinners and then suddenly it was Saturday and we were set up in the outdoor terrace. It was a beautiful ceremony and I was supremely happy I was there for it, coherent and sober, instead of the drugged stupor I had wasted away in the months before.

Father cried next to me silently as he relented and the tough exterior he held all summer crumbled with something finally going right for one of his sons. I took his hand in mine and squeezed. He squeezed back.

Then it was the wedding reception. There were a few guests who gawked, but otherwise I was left alone. Everyone was dancing and laughing. The food was perfect, the music tasteful and the atmosphere festive. Except there I found myself sitting at the head table alone and wondering where I had gone wrong.

I thought I had been getting better, but suddenly I felt the sharp prick of anxiety building in my chest. I itched for a pill, something to numb myself to a pain I couldn't quite place, but that had built up over the course of the evening. My brother's were kinder than they had ever been. My father and I had a better understanding of each other than ever before and I was no longer fighting a terrible depression. And yet, something was off.

The music changed and it was time for the couple's first dance. It began soft with just strings and the piano, but built to a lovely chorus that epitomized the shining love between them. It complimented the couple flawlessly and I could see exactly how Julia helped soften Crispen's harsher edges. How he brought out her playful side. They fit together perfectly, each bringing out the better in the other, just as love should.

Ryen was dancing with his new girlfriend and I even saw Father dancing with an old friend. I hoped maybe it was a new beginning for him too.

Even with all this love surrounding me somehow I still felt alone. Isolated like there was a glass barrier between the rest of the world and I. Only I could see it and it kept me segregated from the life being lived around me. I wanted so badly to move forward, but how did one move on from such violence, when every memory led to a dark and deadly ending?

A hand extended before my field of vision. Confused, I looked up to find its owner and was startled to discover Ryen standing before me.

"Uh, yes?" I asked cautiously.

"Don't make me ask. That's a little too gay for me." He joked and the smile on his face was nothing but sincere, no trace of the usual malice to be found behind his words. "C'mon, everyone's dancing. You should be too. It's Crispen's wedding, hopefully this only happens once!"

He chuckled. Then he tugged on my bicep and I was unceremoniously dragged onto the dance floor. It was still the slow song and much to my utter surprise Ryen proceeded to dance hand-in-hand with me.

"Two brother's can dance together at a wedding, it's not that big of a deal. Close your damn mouth." He grumbled like he was insulted I was so astonished by his behavior.

But I took the hint and closed my mouth, burning retort bit off, and danced awkwardly in time with his movements. We both moved ill at ease at first, but the meaning behind his gesture was more than I ever could have believed capable of coming from him.

"Why do I have to be the girl?" I teased as he led us across the dance floor.

I caught my father watching us out of the corner of his eye and the smile on his face couldn't have been any bigger.

"Please, like you don't love it," He snapped back, but quickly loosened up with our mocking banter restored. I laughed and truly felt it.

"Not with you, brother," I smirked and forced his hand to change position as I took over the lead. His eyes widened in shock and if that didn't make my night whole night then nothing would.

A vibration in my pocket alerted me to a text. I excused myself from the dance floor laughing the whole time. It was a good time to end it as I could tell his limit had been reached for acts of kindness. Suddenly in a good mood I pulled out my phone wondering who could be contacting me. I took a seat in a chair near the back. The only people still alive that I talked to were at the wedding, which was a sad realization indeed.

My eyes bulged at the name on the screen. It was from Johanna. There had to be a mistake.

My finger hesitated over the swipe key to open the phone. I looked up to watch as Crispen twirled Julia and she laughed joyously, her cream-colored wedding dress hugging her body and complimenting the curve of her hips. She was a well proportioned and healthy woman, not the twig-like women Crispen usually dated. Our father stepped in as the music changed and he danced with his new daughter-in-law. She giggled infectiously.

Life continued on. It was time I moved with it.

I swiped the lock screen open and pulled up the paragraph long text.

_Hey Peeta bread, saw ur interview thurs night. It took me a while to process everything. A lot of shit went down and there r things I regret and I know u do too. So I wanted to let u know I don't blame u. I was just hurting. Oh and my dad was reinstated as sheriff. We r actually on good terms. K, uh later then._

I read the text another three times to make sure I had read it right. Then I remained just staring at the screen of my phone intently while trying to think of an appropriate response. Was she extending the proverbial olive branch or just getting closure?

Suddenly it didn't matter. Whatever she needed I would give, be it closure or friendship or something else entirely. I quickly typed out a response thanking her and proposing we talk when I got back if she was up for it when another realization dawned on me. It hit me like lightning, sparking throughout my body from my head to my toes. All my senses tingled in fiery anticipation of the decision that loomed before me. I hit send and stood resolute in the knowledge of what I needed to do.

Confidence was flowing in to every pore of my body, filling me up with a light I hadn't felt in a long time. I survived. I could take anything the future had to offer. What was I afraid of? I was so unfair, so selfish.

I opened my contact list as I stepped out of the banquet hall and into the courtyard. Then I pressed call.

The phone connected and began to ring.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

With each ring the pulse of my heart ticked up and sweat blossomed across my palms. It was too late to turn back now.

Then suddenly the familiar auto-tuned glory of KE$HA's echoed across the courtyard. It was a sound I knew intimately. She was an ever-constant presence during high school and it was only fitting that she was the artist playing now.

The phone dropped to my side as I turned to find the source of the music. Each ring still faintly sounded from the speaker of my phone as KE$HA beat out in tune with it.

Standing on the opposing side of the courtyard was a man I recognized in an instant. My heart swelled with a feeling I long thought lost to me. God, I hadn't realized how much I missed him. He was dressed in a tan suit with a pale blue button down that made those familiar cobalt eyes pop. There was a smile on his face big enough to match mine and light up the courtyard brighter than any of the city lights.

Either it was fate or wild coincidence, but all that mattered was the answer that immediately sprung to the forefront of my mind as I stepped forward, toward my future. _Yes, Cato, I'll always say yes to you._

THE END.

**Oh god, there I go. I just couldn't help myself and so I made a sappy little happy ending for the story, faaackkk! I just needed there to be some hope and happiness after such a long slog through all that hell and blood and death. **

**I will let you in on a little secret. I did have it planned all along to end it on a much happier note with out the need of this epilogue, but then as I got closer to the final chapter I realized how stupid it would have looked after making a fic about finding yourself and redemption to end it in such a rom-com way with Peeta being 'saved' by Cato (originally he did say yes and ran after him and they kissed and it was super lovey-dovey and everything was made better just by Cato's magical appearance, but that just didn't sit well with me nor did it seem to fit with the story. Peeta doesn't need no man to save him. He's a grown ass man himself! If he want's something he can go get it, which he does here! Hurray!). And so I reworked it with an ending where Peeta realized it was time for him to take control of his life again and stop using people as his crutch. I then moved the happy reunion to an unplanned epilogue where Peeta was finally in a healthier place and able to realize he could love with out using people as a crutch. Does any of that make sense?**

**Well, anyways please leave a little review letting me know what you think! I oh so appreciate such things :)**

**Love you all,**

**crobb07**


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